Lucas Manning

Seventh Grade

(This is from Lucas' P.O.V)

I sat in my usual seat in my first block class. All the way in the back.

I like it back there. It leaves me secluded from the rest of the group.

I am different after all. Everybody knows it.

I started to draw in my notebook in front of me. I drew dark hands reaching for help. Like a ghost almost. Dark and creepy. I don't exactly know what it is though. But, then again I do.

Let's say it is..........fear.

Fear of not fitting in. Fear of being picked on. Fear of my own mind.

I am always thinking about my fears. About how I'm not strong enough to get over them and get on with living.

I finished drawing my fear. It looked extremely creepy. I am "decent" at drawing and such because I have an art class.

I look up to see my English teacher writing on the board. We are learning about the parts of an essay. Easy. I don't really need to pay attention. I know this already. I am okay at English. Math though. I suck at math. I guess I pretty much suck at everything. I don't know what I'm saying by saying I'm okay at English. I just suck.

My teacher makes us take notes on the stupid parts of an essay and then the bell rings.

I put my notebook in my green backpack and put it on my back. Then, I reach down and grab my tenor saxophone in its black case.

I love playing that thing. It's hard but, fun.

I walk out the door with my things and head to my second class of the horrible day. Which is science.

I walk into my science class and sit again, in the back.

I get out my textbook and my notebook and wait for the class to start.

After what seems like ages the bell chimes and my male teacher starts taking attendance.

He calls my name and I say here in a quiet voice. He barely hears me but he does and marks me here.

After learning about some science shit and going to my history and art class, I head to lunch.

I go through the line and I sit at my table in the corner by myself.

No one really wants to talk to me and I don't really want to talk to any one.

"Hey faggot," another seventh grade boy said to me as they walked by my table.

Everyone hates me and no one cares about me.

Ever since I stopped hiding it and I told some people I was gay they started treating me like this.

Even my mom has called me a faggot and hates me.

It made me hate myself too though. So much. I started to cut my arms yesterday. It already left scars. I had to wear a long sleeved shirt today to hide them.

I just hope though that no one else is treated this way. I hope that no one has to go what I go through.

Because what I go through feels like Hell.