Sitting in the metal chair which I am confined to for an hour every day in my algebra class, I can't help but to stare at the blank page that lies in front of me. Every thing that could be created from this single sheet of paper but go unthought of. I decide to look up from my desk for once to see that the old chalkboard which my teacher writes out endless amounts of useless information on is filled with probelms to try which I will not be doing. I just sit in this seat day after day, and never say a word to anybody. I think my teacher realized that after the first few weeks of school. I hear the distinctive sound of a school phone ringing. I stare as my teacher answers it, and speaks quietly enough to hear him, but not able to make out the words. I know instantly it's for. After my teacher fumbles hanging up the phone, he comes to my seat. "Jason, Mrs. Miller would like to see you in her office." I nod and stand up. I look at the filthy floor covered in dirt as I walk out. I gently close the door behind me.
I stare down the long hallway. Brightly lit with flourescent lights, white tile makes up the floor. The walls are brick covered in white paint. I walk slowly, looking in every window on every door. I take a left into a hallway that is exactly the same, and take about 5 steps before I reach Mrs. Miller's office. I walk into the guidance office. The wall is white, but covered in posters encouraging you to go after your dreams and not care what other people think. The receptionist, an adorable old lady who everyone knows for her kindness tells me it will just be a minute. I take a seat. I stare at one poster with a black and white road that cracked, and theres a colored in rainbow over it. It says, 'Stand out'.
I hear a door open, and my attention is immediately drawn to the location of the sound. Mrs. Miller is standing in the doorway of her office and says, "Jason, you can come in now," and sits back down in her desk chair. I walk in and ask if I should close the door or leave it open. She tells me to close it. I sit down in a black, cushioned chair with metal bars. I rest my arms on the armrests, and wait for her to speak. She says, "Jason, how have you been? We haven't seen each other in about a week." I shrug. I've never really been one to talk. "Still a man of few words I see," she says with a smile. I move my black, straightened hair out of my eye.
"How have you been, emotionally?" She asks. I hate answering this question. I have been sad for the last 8 years. All the happiness was ripped out of my heart by a man I have never met. A man that is in jail for the rest of his life. The man who stabbed my parents to death because they wouldn't give him any money. I come back to reality and answer, "I've been good." That's what my mouth says, but not what my mind or my body say. We sit in silence, only to be interupted by the sound of water falling on a rock waterfall that she has sitting on her desk.
"I've been writing a lot, recently," I say breaking the silence. "Ohh, what have you been writing?" She replies. I answer her question, "Lyrics or poems, it all depends on how you want to classify them." "Can I read one?" She asks. "Next time we talk I'll bring one," I say. She nods in agreement. "What have you been writing about?" She asks. This is the question I was hoping to avoid. I have been writing about my parents, and what life would be like if they were still alive, or if I would've died along with them. I say the only thing I can without making her suspicious, "I've been writing about life." She nods. Without any warning, she asks, "Jason, why are you wearing long sleeves when its so warm out?"
