Courtesy Of Blurryface

I'm Not So Naive, My Sorry Eyes Can See

I finished the report Mr. Carter assigned us and turned it into him 3 weeks ago.

It is currently 34 pages with 57,391 letters in the Phoenician language/alphabet.

As I headed to Creative and Artistic Writing,  Alex approached me.

"What is up, faggot?"

I actually did look up but he slapped me with his textbook from under my chin and I bit my tongue.

I accidently hiss at the pain.

"Did you just hiss at me?"

Jenna was gone as well as Josh and I was by myself, alone, having to face up for myself.

"Yes, I suppose I did so."

"Are you getting smart with me?"

"I'm sure I'm smarter than you."

"Speak up, you dick."

"I'm 100% positive that you're the dick in this situation."

"That's because I've gotten some pussy whereas you ran away because Jenna leaned in to kiss you but the little bitch you are, of course you ran away."

I can taste the blood coming from my tongue and try soaking it up in my mouth while he talks.

"And is she around to save the day? No, and Josh, what the hell is up with that retarded douche?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"Are you gonna talk or be the pussy you're known for?"

I think; Just talk yourself up and tear yourself down, you've hit your one wall, now find a way around, well, what's the problem? You got a lot of nerve, so what did you think I would say? No you can't run away , no you can't run away... you wouldn't. I never wanted to say it.. You never wanted to stay, I put my faith in you so much faith and then you... Just threw it away, I'm not so naive - my sorry eyes can see, the way you fight shy of almost everything. Well, if you give up you'll get what you deserve, so what did you think I would say? No you can't run away, no you can't run away... you wouldn't would you? I never wanted to say it... But you never wanted to stay, I put my faith in you so much faith and then you... Just threw it away, you were finished long before... We had even seen the start, why don't you stand up? Be a man about it? Fight with your bare hands how 'bout it? I never wanted to say it... But you never wanted to stay, I put my faith in you so much faith and then you... Just threw it away..

Hayley sang that at Homecoming, I think it was entitled, "For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic."

I soak up my spit and spit my blood in Alex's face.

"I'm not so naive, my sorry eyes can- You little fucker!" He pushes me before I can finish my sentence.

I scream like a little kid and run down to Creative and Artistic Writing as he chases me down the hall.

I run into Creative and Artistic Writing and I shut the door in his face.

"Tyler!" Mr. Carter yells as I make a loud disruption.

"Yeah?"

"Shut the door.. Quietly, please? Thank you."

I nod.

I sit down in the third row by Jesse, yes, he's in Creative and Artistic Writing, surprisingly.

"Dude, why is your mouth bleeding?"

"No reason." I smile awkwardly/nervously with the blood running down my lips. Man, I must've bit my tongue hard.

"So, I have read all of your reports and though, I'm sure it was SO painful for all of you to write because though, it was so hard, there was an exception." Mr. Carter says.

"I have picked out 3 people in this class and every other class.."

"To do what?" One of the Freshman's ask.

"Three of you in here will be going to China at the end of the school year."

"Obviously, just about none of you didn't try at the report, most likely because you didn't care and didn't know that you could have gone to China, my fault, I suppose but three of you are lucky enough because.. You will be performing for some local people and will be writing one of your own songs, not by yourself of course. You may gather with a friend whether or not they're going to China in the first place to perform and write your own song."

"Who won, Mr. Carter?"

I doubt I won, I had an abundance of spelling mistakes I didn't bother to fix or I probably missed them.

"In this class, Dallon Weekes, Zack Merrick and Tyler Joseph has earned the right to write their own song and perform it in China."

No!

"What does the song have to be about?" Zack asks.

"How do people express pain?" Mr. Carter looks at them.

"They usually do it physically, ya know, they take it out on themselves or someone else."

"Exactly, the point of your song is to express your pain through choruses, through words and through a beat, a sick one at that."

"A song about pain? Why did we have to write a report on our favorite book in the Phoenician language then?" Zack asks.

"If you can express why you like this particular book through details of the parts of the books, you can sure define pain through words and your own experience of pain."

I'd know but it's schizophrenic suicidal thoughts and the people of China wouldn't like that.

"Do we have to do it though?" I ask.

"Yes. You get extra credit and you get noticed in the newspapers around town about it as well."

For this reason, I am not naive about this song-writing-thing. There's more to it, I'm sure of it.