Existing To Living

Living as a Hyperbole

I sat in English class, the same spot everyday. The desk was old and scratched up, with little indents that previous students had left behind. I listened to Mr. Albert as he talked about hyperboles. Why do humans exaggerate things? Why must everything be so damn entertaining all the time?

Later that night I worked on my hyperbole assignment. To write a short story using a hyperbole in each paragraph. This was so useless, I thought. But then I realized my life.

I've been diagnosed with depression and PTSD from several incidents that have occurred in my life. An eight year old shouldn't have been assaulted. No one should be. Then I realized the ultimate hyperbole. My life! Everyday I come to school with a smile on my face. I don't talk a lot, but everyone knew me as the girl with good grades and good behavior. "Good" normally would not be used as a hyperbole, ask any English teacher. But from the viewpoint of a girl who was being assaulted daily by her peers, "good" was definitely a word that made her life feel sparkly.

I turned in my assignment about a girl who was good to everyone's eyes. A girl who everyone thought had no problems to deal with. Someone who had it easy. Talk about a hyperbole.

Surprisingly, I got an A on that assignment. Only to backup my argument on paper. However, the assignment was not done there.

At the end of class, Mr. Albert asked me why I didn't write about a person with a million dollars, a pig that could fly and breath fire, like all the other students. I simply told him, I'm not going to stretch the truth that far, even for a hyperbole. He nodded, sensing something was up, and let me leave class.

The next day I sat down on my old and used up desk only to find a note to see the school counselor. GREAT.