That day was the equivalent of a slap in the face.
I don't know where it started to go wrong, but it did. I spent most of my school hours gathering up my books which somehow created a strong connection to the floor, or tripping up the stairs because God forbid I be on time for anything in my life. Or just general evading the rest of my class mates, who I'm surprised have the time to go to class, considering the amount of time they reserve for admiring themselves in the mirror. I just needed to leave. The moment history class let out, you couldn't even count to ten before I was gone. School doesn't really matter to me the way it does to other kids, you know? It's more about passing with my sanity than about learning.
By the time I got home, I was soaked. Of course it had to rain. I'm so sorry converse. You were a brave solider. But I don't know what I expected. It's December in British Columbia. It's not like it's going to be a tropical paradise. The important thing here is I got home. Alive. I peeled of my hoodie and headed up the stairs to my room.
'Not so fast.'
Ugh. This day definitely needs this. Thank you mother, I definitely want a lecture on why I need to dress more appropriately while still in my WATERLOGGED CLOTHING.
"Alex. It's December. You need to dress warmer."
Mum. I am not sprinting away from school in a massive winter jacket.
"Alex, I do not care that you're seventeen. I do not care about the 'trends.' I care that you live in my house, and that you're my child, and that my child is not running home, freezing in the pouring rain."
Damn. "I will wear a hat and gloves, no coat.' We both know my negotiations will fail, I'm just trying to get out of this will my dignity still intact.
"You will wear what I tell you to."
I sighed, knowing arguing with my mother was futile, and finally headed up the stairs to change out of my sopping wet clothes before I caught freezer burn.
I'm still not quite sure why I had to go up into my room so quickly. It's not like I have friends to gossip with. I still darted up the stairs though, and I shut my door.
I couldn't decide weather or not to change out of my wet clothes. They were definitely freezing me to the bone, and my teeth were chattering, and they smelled like smoke, but somehow, staring at my ceiling, dripping wet, was comforting. I felt alone, but placid. It was nice.
Compared to the rest of the day, I would have killed to stay like that forever. Sitting silently, frozen and numb.
I am not what you would call a high schoolers dream.
I'm not the schools biggest target, but there is still some bright lights above my head flashing 'hey! Fresh meat over here!' It's just my face. I cannot help that I have these angular cheekbones and sharp almond eyes. It would look almost attractive on anyone except for me. It just makes me look angry.
Which is why I get myself into fights.
And have been suspended four times this year.
I just want peace. My mum has started to pick up on what is happening, and the last thing I need is for my mommy going into the school and tattling on my 'special friends'
I don't really get picked on, and when I do, it's just because no one else can be bothered to pester someone else.
I am my schools average joe. Chin length, dirty blond hair, grey-blue eyes, and a 5 foot 8 stature. I don't stand out. I'm not athletic, or even that intelligent, (trust me, you do not want to see how badly my history grade is doing.) I am just one with the crowd. Ordinary. It's actually okay with me.
But being a pigeon in a cage of doves isn't all positive.
I just get swept up in my worlds. I get to excited to dream. I float away, often never wanting to come back. I just want to hover above my life, carefully controlling the life I lead, hand-picking every word I say, debating every gesture of my hands. I just want to be able to control my perfect world, you know? Prove to people that I mean something.
It's kind of hard when your school bullies chase you out, screaming, cigarettes and snow flying in your face at an alarming rate.
I came back to my reality, staring at my charcoal walls, without feeling in my hands and thighs. I peeled off my clothes, and threw them in their designated pile, in the furtherest corner of my room. I took out a old, balled up sweatshirt and some jeans, decided I looked adequate, and headed back downstairs.
If I knew what was happening, I would have rather been dead.
