Today I start writing differently. The non-Novah way.
The first bell rang. The whole crowd of fake people pushed each other through the doors.
I went to the band room with a friend, the only real reason why I went was because we passed the 8th grade lockers. As I grabbed my things for the next 7 hours I saw the groups; The Populars, The Kids no one hangs out with, The anime obsessed kids, The normal kids, And then my group. I don't know what to call them. We're just a bunch of misfits who ended up together.
As I headed to 1st hour two boys walked behind me. When this happens I become insecure. Walking faster I turn the corner and enter room 207. I hate this hour, as soon as I walk in I can already see these two boys harassing the whole class. I sat down and checked my phone to see if my internet friend texted me, he didn't.
The second bell rang. Our teacher walked in. I hate her. She's so judgemental. Telling kids who and who they can't hang out with, asking children what's wrong with them, believing the suckup kid who is more sensitive than a 6 year old girl. One of these days I'll talk to her.
Third bell rang went to gym blah blah. Fourth bell rang. Math. This teacher is okay I guess, at lest she doesn't judge kids. This is a love hate class. I love it because it's the class I write my poems in, I hate it because she never teaches us.
5th bell. I felt sick. I wasn't going to lunch, the poem I just wrote got to me. I felt the tears coming. I ran to the bathroom. Remembering my sharpest blade was in my pencil case I grabbed it and cut my thighs, waited for them to bleed. Forgetting I was wearing white jeans I walked out of the bathroom. Only to see my principal
"Oh, uh hi Mr. Abdulahad."
"Hello Novah, are you okay?"
"Yes, wh-"
Before I could finish my sentence he grabbed my arm.
