Sincerely

Leeon

It's weird seeing everyone I've known for the past 12 years not age mentally at all.

The amount of stupid fucking ignorant jokes I've heard in only the first 4 hours of school is enough for me to itch my brain with the sharpest cheese greater I can find. I don't understand people my age, I never have. And it's fine, cause a lot of people my age don't understand me neither.

The lunch bell finally rang, and I was the first one out of the door. I almost forgot how suffocating this school could be. So going to the cafeteria is not an option. I usually don't go in there anyways. I adjust my handbag strap on my shoulder and continue down the hallways. Sometimes when I walk in the halls I wish I could take off my glasses. I never really look anyone in the eyes anyways, but I wish I didn't have to look at anyone at all.

I turn the corner and crash into Thomas. Hard. Not hard enough for either of us to fall over, but hard enough for me to give him shit about it.

"Shit Thomas, what the hell?"

I look at him and he's fuming. I don't really care why he is but I ask anyways.

"Who shit in your cereal?" I ask, smirking only a bit. It was amusing seeing Thomas so pissed off.

His little brother, Peter, peeked his head from behind Thomas, "Some faggot was getting smart with him, and you know how he gets."

I grip onto my handbag strap and look away, "You shouldn't say shit like that, Pete."

Thomas laughed sharply, "He fucking deserves it. And you know he does."

My brows furrow and I stare at him, "Know who does?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, "You know, the fucking..." He trails off and point towards my handbag.

"Why are you wearing a purse, Leeon?"

My face heats up and Peter chuckles, "It's not a fucking purse, dipshit."

Peter clicks his pen and mumbles, "I don't know man, you say not to say shit like 'faggot' but here you are wearing something a faggot would wear."

I grit my teeth and move Thomas to the side, and he doesn't hesitate to grab onto my arm.

"Hey man, what the hell are you doing?"

I shake off his grip, "You're both fucking idiots if you think wearing a handbag makes you gay. I'm not. Fucking. Gay."

I glare at Peter, "And I say to not say stupid ignorant shit like that because a decent human being wouldn't. But your skull is too fucking thick to understand simple shit like that. Grow the fuck up. Both of you."

I can feel my cheeks burning, so I know my face is red. Shit, I know I shouldn't get so defensive over shit like this, it makes me seem guilty. Guilty of what? I'm not doing anything wrong. There's nothing wrong with me. It's people like them who's the problem.

I sigh and check the time on my phone, "Whatever, I'm going to lunch. Later."

I walk past them and I can hear a soft "The fuck was his problem?" as I'm walking away.

I need to get out of here. I need some air or something.

I walk out the back of the school and head towards the greenhouse on the side. It's nice and cold outside, so the heat in my face quickly went away. I take my time walking. I kick a rock and pretend it's everyone I can't stand. I kick it again and pretend it's myself. I put my cold hands in my pockets and shiver. I can't fucking stand Thomas, let alone his little brother that just transferred here as a freshman. Thomas thinks we're friends after our first 3 years of school, but really being around him was my ticket to not getting fucking harassed. Sure, I was fine and it worked and all, but that doesn't make us friends. I'm not friends with ignorant people, or people who give zero effort to change.

I merge left on the sidewalk and head towards the greenhouse. No one gives a shit about the greenhouse anymore, so sometimes I go there and take care of it myself. Nothing fancy, just basic tending. I either do that, or just sit there by myself. I go there to collect my thoughts, and gather enough sanity to get me through the rest of the day. It's nice, being out here by myself and my thoughts, even if it's only for 30 minutes for lunch.

I sigh and look up from the sidewalk to face the greenhouse. And someone's there. At my fucking bench. I pick up my pace and push my glasses up my nose. My cheeks started to get hot again, it's fucking stupid I know but it just pisses me off that someone is at the one spot that I go to everyday to get away from everyone and everything. I've been doing it for years. And maybe it's just a freshman who doesn't know. So I'll just tell them to fuck off.

As I get closer, I notice that there's smoke fluttering around the person, and I can't tell if it's because it's cold outside or if they're smoking something. I don't really give a fuck which one it is, I just want them to go. I walk up next to the bench and drop my bag on the ground.

"Hey, I'm gonna need you to kindly fuck off, I come here every day and-"

I stop in my tracks. And my cheeks get way hotter than before.

And suddenly I'm back at freshman year, crying at this very same spot. Sobbing because I lost my best friend and it was all my fault.

What the fuck. What. The. Fuck?

It all crashes into my legs, and I refuse to let it knock me down again.

I won't let it fucking knock me down all over again, I won't.

My breath hitches in my throat and I stand there still. I forgot what I was even going to say. My cheeks burn against the chilling air as i stare at him.

I stare at Cincere, and the smoke fluttering around him.