There is a homework which I have delayed answering. Tonight, I am certain, is the deadline.
Nothing was the same anymore.
Their glances, their laughs, their conversations, their presence - everything was different.
They forced themselves to act as if nothing has changed, as if nothing was wrong.
But that was impossible for him.
Everything was different.
It would be a lie to reminisce.
He carelessly grabbed the bag and materials which he planned to use that night. To expose them then and there would be an unnecessary risk. It was better to wait.
He rushed down the stairs only to find his family still playing around.
He curiously wondered if they could feel the difference in him.
He harmlessly pondered if they could predict his dangerous mood. And, he allowed himself to inquire, if they could, would they care enough stop him?
But instead of his hopeful thoughts, none of them minded him positively at all.
They gave him quick glances of displeasure before ignoring him completely.
He was truly unloved.
But he did not mind.
He merely shrugged their actions off and sat comfortably at a corner.
All of them were merely insignificant figures who had enough confidence and pride to betray him, he convinced himself.
No, he did not mind them at all.
Finally, the lights were dimmed, the television was shut off and everyone but he relocated to their rooms on the upper floor.
He became a sole figure abandoned on a starless night.
But he did not mind.
Detach yourself from society, he reminded himself. Escape from reality.
An upward curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he smiled to himself for the first time that night.
He did not mind their actions, but his own were a completely different concept.
He then charged towards the bathroom at an astonishing speed. Once he had entered, he firmly locked the door and leaned back on the furthest corner.
Darkness engulfed him completely, and he embraced it. Only when he was entirely hidden could he not be obliged to stare at society straight in the eye (albeit blankly) and inspect his imperfect self. In the darkness, he could pretend that he lived in a perfect world; he could pretend that he was actually cared for.
"But there’s no time to think of negligible thoughts!" he suddenly shouted in realization. "I should complete my homework before the deadline!"
His homework, he remembered, was issued to him several months before. He himself was the teacher who ordered it. He decided the deadline. Therefore, it was promised that although drafts were largely welcomed, the actual paper had to be submitted only when he was forced into the corner for the last time.
Tonight was the "last time."
With his thoughts aside, he carelessly emptied the contents of his bag: a single notebook, a cheap pen and it. He urgently opened the pages to what he confidently believed was a blank page then madly began writing down his screeching thoughts and emotions. The pen instantly came in contact with the coarse paper and was heartlessly dragged around to what was supposed resemble words.
