I had to write a story about someone living with a mental illness for health class, and I put a lot of effort into it (Gasp, I put effort into schoolwork.) so I'm posting it here. It's very much based off my average school day.
So without further ado, let's go.
7:51 AM.
My mum's yelling. My little brother's crying crocodile tears. My older brother's rolled his eyes so many times I'm surprised they haven't gotten stuck. My dad's said 'what are you doing?' at least seven times.
I take my meds before my mum can scream at me about that. She says I'm irresponsible and act like a little kid, which hurts, but I don't let anyone know that.
7:59 AM.
I'm on the bus. Headphones on, music playing, volume on full.
The bus trips between home and school are one of my favorite parts of the day. The calm between two storms when I can listen to show tunes and flip off anyone who tries to interact with me. It's my quiet time.
I close my eyes and pretend I'm in a cave, or one of those pillow forts I used to make when I was little.
9 :03 AM.
Homegroup.
Happens every day and I don't think I'll ever be able to stand it.
I sit against the wall, flipping through a book, checking the time every few seconds, silently hoping that time speeds up. The other kids in my home group are playing four square. The ball keeps flying at me.
I clench my teeth and make a mental note to cuss them off when there aren't any teachers present.
9:34 AM.
I hate art class.
We're told to be creative, then told off when we want to make art of something teachers don't like.
I wanted to draw flowers, half wilting, half alive. I had an old vase of flowers in my room. It gave me the idea. I'm told to pick one of the themes given.
An overflowing sink, a junk drawer, a tool shed or a messy vanity.
I'm agitated. But still, I swallow down my opinions and draw a stupid vanity.
I tap my fingers on the desk, forcing myself not to pop my lips like I normally do when I'm stressed or annoyed. My teachers told me it's 'distracting to the other kids' even though no one's ever said so.
10:39 AM
Math. I despise it. I try and focus. I force myself to stop bouncing my leg or clicking my pen and look right at the teacher.
I feel like Charlie brown, and how all the adults in his world can't talk normally, just make indecipherable noises that no person could be expected to understand.
I look around, part of me praying that anyone else is having trouble. They either aren't or can hide it well.
We're given worksheets. The numbers start swimming in front of my eyes. Everyone's talking, no, yelling. The kid beside me is singing to himself and swaying his head from side to side. Two kids are bouncing in their seats, making them squeak. I want to put my headphones on, but the last time I did that, I got screamed at.
The lights are too bright, the temperature is too warm, the door is open, and wind is hitting me. I dig my nails into my palms, leaving faint crescent moons in my skin as I try not to slam my head against a wall until my hair and face is dyed red.
11:45 AM
I have a muffin, a sandwich, and some air popped popcorn in my lunchbox. I eat all of it despite it only being recess. Recess is closer to actual lunch time than our lunch break is anyway.
I sit on the deck and listen to my friends talk, adding a word here and there.
People run past, screaming. I make a joke about kids screaming in public for no reason and that I should be the one screaming. Only one person hears and laughs.
One of the guys who hangs out with my friend group keeps either moaning or making racist jokes. I want to scream at the top of my lungs at him that the funniest thing about him is that he thinks he's funny.
I want to scream at one of my friends that using gen-alpha, chronically online, brain-rot slang terms, and saying's he's orgasming isn't funny, it's fucking irritating.
I pull my hands into my sleeves. Too warm in the classrooms, too cold outside.
I pop my lips and run the tip of my index finger around the tip of my thumb.
12:30 PM.
Science. Two classes are mixed into one big class of over fifty kids. The loud, rowdy, irritating people from my class mingle with the loud, rowdy, irritating people from the other class, creating a symphony of gen-alpha slang terms, and random screaming.
One of them asks me out. I tell him I'm Lesbian, like I always do when he asks me out. He laughs, like he always does when I tell him I'm lesbian.
This is one of the few classes where I can wear my headphones. I turn the noise cancelling up to the highest level, but I can still hear everyone yelling and laughing in loud, screechy ways.
I tell the teacher I can't focus. He tells me I can. I go back to my seat and stare down at the work sheet. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense.
1:30 PM
Lunch. The screaming kids run past. The same joke I made at recess gets told. It gets a bunch of laughs.
Two of my friends are yelling out the lyrics to an Olivia Rodrigo song. I press my teeth together to stop myself from yelling at them that all they're doing is making my headache worse. I silently wish death upon myself for eating my sandwich at recess. I put some gum in my mouth so I can at least pretend I have food.
My friends start heading off to where we have our next lesson. I shut my eyes and try to pretend I'm in my cave.
2:42 PM
I liked singing. I liked how vocal class was last year, when we'd form groups, go into different rooms and practice whatever song we wanted.
The new teacher's making us sing the chorus of Dynamite. She skips entire lines and makes us all start singing at different times. She bobs up and down, clapping her hands and pointing her long, boney fingers at us when she wants us to start singing.
My throat is dry. I try and sing, but all I can manage is mouthing along to the lyrics.
It's chaotic. It's too loud, it's too bright, it's too hot, the room's too small. I step past her and leave the room. She follows.
She keeps telling me I'm being disrespectful. My eyes water. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but all that does is make it hurt more. The teacher keeps telling me to talk. Yelling at me to talk.
Tears start rolling down my face. I clench my teeth as they reach my neck, making it turn cold and itchy. She keeps ordering me to talk. If I could talk, and it would make her stop yelling at me, why wouldn't I just talk?
She tells me I can spend five minutes outside. That isn't enough time. Why can't she see that I'm in pain? How can't she see that I'm in pain? How is no one else in pain?
I crumple to the ground after she goes back into the room, leaning against a wall, silently praying no one can see me. I rub my face. My cheeks are so hot. I focus on looking like I recovered, rather than actually recovering. For me, it's better to look ok than feel ok.
I force myself to go back inside.
I mouth along to the chaos, pretending to yawn and rub sleep from my eyes whenever tears start to well up again.
4:12 PM
Second bus trip. This one back home from school.
Headphones on, music blasting. Some kid's kicking my seat. I press my back up against it as hard as I can as I try and just focus on my music.
My little brother orders me to text our dad to pick us up from the bus stop. I say I will, then don't take my phone out of my pocket for the rest of the bus trip.
4:43 PM
My dad asks me how my day was. I say it was fine.
I make fruit toast and go up to my room before he can check SEQTA and see the message my vocal teacher probably sent him.
I pull my laptop out and open YouTube. I watch Clawed_Beauty101 as I think about my day.
I hated it.
I hated almost every moment.
And the worst part is tomorrow, it'll all repeat.
