My Answer is You

3. Me, Myself and I

Thank God I got away with that. I don't know what would've happened to me if I stuck around that area even for a little longer.

I pass a door with a sign on top that read in bold letters "B1". Seems like I'm really close to my class, I think to myself. I have to say I'm pretty relieved the majority of my classes do not include her. It's a crazy difference from last year's classes. The majority of last year's classes were with her, and I'm just so glad I wouldn't have to run into her most of the time. If I'm being completely honest, even if I had just one class where I wouldn't have to see her, I'd be grateful.

I walk past a row of lockers then finally stop at mine. To the right of my locker is Mack(we'll probably get to that later)'s locker. And past that is a door that has a sign above it in bold letters "B2"--where I'd have my first class of the day, and thankfully it would be without her.

I stuff my locker with books and other materials--that I did not need for the current subject I would be attending--in an organized manner. If I had anything about myself that I'm proud of, I'd say it would probably be how neat and organized I keep things; whether its the things in my house, my room, my locker, etc. It could be anything and I'd be extremely careful and organized with it--whatever it is. The one thing I'm not careful or organized with would be myself. I just don't take care of myself. It takes too much effort...

Alright then, fine. I'll tell you the truth if you want to hear it.

It's not that it takes "too much effort". I'm not that lazy, okay! It's just that I've got literally no motivation or any real energy to take care of myself. For instance...

I get a cut and I'm totally oblivious to it.

Blood trickles down from the cut and I finally notice. "Oh."

I shrug and don't bother with disinfecting the cut or tending to it in any way. "Whatever."

I smear the blood with a cloth then leave it at that.

That's probably not a very healthy--or hygienic--thing to do. But it's just what I do. If it's about me, I don't have a care in the world. I mean if nobody cares about me, then why should I care about myself? It just makes no sense. Nobody sees me in a good light. Nobody sees potential in me. Nobody sees worth in me. In most cases, nobody sees me. I'm non-existent to the rest of the world. Sometimes, when I zone out and contemplate the purpose of my life, I may tend to forget that I'm a living, breathing human being and that I'm not part of a sickening, cruel simulation conjured by someone else.

Anyhow, let's go back to the present. Damn, I really do get off topic sometimes, don't I?

I quickly go to my classroom in hopes of her not spotting me.

Sigh.

I make my way around all those people in the classroom to my seat. I sit in my seat and place my books under my chair, which has a piece of metal there for storing some books on it. Once I got comfortable, I look to my right and gaze out at the big window revealing the bright, clear, blue sky and the rich, green grass just below it, softly being blown by the light breeze. Instantaneously, the sight muffles all the loud noises going around the classroom and now I, for the second time today, feel at peace. Cars and buses drive back and forth down the streets, people enter and exit buildings, the leaves on the trees are softly swaying in the wind along with the grass.

Today really is a busy morning. After all, it is the beginning of a new school year and it is time for people to go back to their jobs and tiresome lives from their long vacation.

A paper ball flies my way and hits me right on the back of my head. I snap back into reality and flinch hard. The paper ball sits still on my desk and signals that I should read whatever is written in there. Some people in the back of the class snicker and that immediately gives them away--I already know who is behind that, two people in particular. Ethan Vennyl and Damian Goode. Those two pieces of shit never leave me alone. The worst thing about it is that they're literally the biggest bullies in school. They pick on anyone lower than them, but they like picking on me the most. That is because I never give them the reaction they want. They expect me to start getting all emotional and feisty about it, or give them a smart remark that they could use against me. But I won't ever let them get the satisfaction they desire from tormenting me. I don't care what they do to me, I'm not ever going to slip up for those absolute losers. Yet, no matter what they do to me, it's absolutely nothing compared to what she would do.

I finally decide to open the crumpled ball of paper. I straighten it out on my desk and I read the big words written in black pen:

hey bitch. i need the homework answers. give me the sheet and ill give it back later, if im in a good mood.

"If I'm in a good mood, my ass," I mutter under my breath. The fuck is that supposed to mean? Is he really acting like he could give back my stuff whenever he wanted to? And only under the circumstances of him being 'in a good mood'? This is the life I live. No matter what I have, it always belongs to someone else. No matter what amount of effort I put into getting my assignments done and in the most organized manner, the credit always goes to someone else. Sometimes, it's not even the things I own or the things I do. Sometimes, it's me. I'm always being tossed around like a damn rag doll, condemned to the merciless hands of another human being--the puppet and the puppeteer.

Then again, what can I really do to avoid this? Absolutely nothing. It always ends with me succumbing to the oppressor. The world has hurt me to the point where rebellion doesn't cross my mind anymore. I can't fight back. I'm weak--not only physically, but emotionally. Sometimes, my body goes so numb that my mind starts to go numb, too. I'm numb to all the pain and suffering I've dealt with and still deal with. I'm practically immune to it. That's how often bad things happen to me--to the point where I just don't care enough to stand up for myself. To the point where I can't think. To the point where I don't feel.

I get up from my seat and take the note with me. I drop it in the trash can and step out of the classroom to get what they all asked for. No, asked would just sound too nice of them--demand is a better word for it.

I shut my locker and go back into the classroom. I approach the menacing group while keeping a good distance from them. I place my sheet of answers on a desk that is directly in front of them and quickly walk back to my seat. "Oh, shit!" One of them laugh. "She actually went and did it!" Another replies, "Yeah, as she should." And one more, Ethan, says, "Well that was easier than I thought it would be!" He pauses for a second, then finally says, "still disappointed that she's not givin' a reaction. It's so fucking annoying!" "I know, right?" Damian adds. "She's being mad stubborn. It's getting on my fucking nerves." "Tell me about it," replies Ethan. "But don't worry. She'll fuck up soon, for sure." The rest agrees and erupts into such a mocking laughter, like the devils they all are. It's making my blood boil.

But that conversation gave me a tiny confidence boost. I gotta say, maybe I am doing a good job on irritating them without really doing anything after all.

The teacher walked in the classroom and immediately the group dispersed back to their own seats. I noticed Ethan put all the papers in his arms in a sorry attempt to hide the whole thing. Then he goes, "Hey, Ms. Myers! Can I really quickly put something in my locker?"

The teacher replies, "Alright fine. I'll only let this happen once. But you must always be prepared before class starts, understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Myers."

He got up from his seat and tightly hugged the stash of papers close to him so the teacher wouldn't see exactly what he was trying to conceal. When he stepped out the door, he stopped and made sure the teacher wasn't looking at him. When the coast was clear, he shot a mischievous grin my way. I glared at him as he walked away, snickering.