The Everyday Life of Yesterday

Chapter Four: Eyes

Hi, I'm a person you're starting to know from a class you're getting familiar with. Today we begin at the start our high school career.

Freshman year. A new day. A new school year. Another reminder that I have not made a healthy social life. Everyday I promised myself to make an effort to speak with someone new, and to eventually talk to you.

The class we shared together was language arts. Like our first grade year, we sat across the room. Destined to never meet.

I sunk in my chair as I listened to the teacher explain the rules and standards. Everything was pretty normal for the class, but what caught my attention was the performance task that we would present at the end of our second semester. It was going to be a poetry booklet; complete with our own little poems. One or two would be presented in class.

My heart raced because I would finally have a chance to stand out. I knew immediately what I would write about. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to put it into words. I spent the days of first semester brainstorming ideas for this masterpiece.

Days passed, and I still didn't know how I would write it. Second semester arrived quickly, and every other poem but this one was complete. There was even a pile of crumpled papers on my desk. I felt defeated, as if nothing ever works out for me. My eyes gazed upon the shadow that was year book photo, which was famed next to a portrait of my father. I looked at my clarinet, put away safely in its case. I moved my attention to the jar of stars I had made in my seventh grade year.

Within seconds, I found the container in my own hands. The lid was removed and I took one of the small white stars. My grip tightened, and I prayed for something. I just wanted something to work out for me.

"I'm so close," I whispered, my eyes shut tight.

You'll never make it.

"I can do this."

Just give up already.

"I matter!"

Nobody even wants you alive!

Like a slap to the face, I had an idea for the poem. I picked up my pencil and began to write. The words flowed in an artistic matter. I smiled as I wrote.

When it was done, I sat back in my chair and laughed. I could feeling something wet running down my face. The sound of joy, it seemed so foreign to me. I must have sounded insane, because within a matter of seconds my mother came knocking on my door.

"Are you okay in there?" she called in her sweet voice.

Between my chuckles I answered, "I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine," and wiped the tears from my face. My mother came in and grinned at the sight of my joy. At that point, all I needed was her embrace.

Finally, the day for presentations came. I could barely contain myself. This was the day I had been preparing for. My name was called.

At first, everyone looked rather confused. Then I took my place infront of the class room. I grinned, remembering what it felt like to stand before a crowd.

The only problem was that this time, I stood alone. I stuttered, trying to find a way to introduce myself. I shook as everyone stared at me. Their eyes studied me intently. I had done presentations before, but this wasn't how I remembered them. Their eyes were cold and dark, as if determining my worth as a human being.

I glanced at my poem and recited it. I tried to make sure each word was said the way it was meant to be. I had to look somewhere else, but no matter what I did there eyes seemed to appear everywhere.

I said the last line of my poem. With a quick conclusion, I handed the project to our teacher and hurried to my desk. Our classmates continued to present their poems. They looked to whoever was infront of the class room, but I could still feel their cold stares on my figure.

I glanced to where you were seated. For just a quick second, our eyes met. You looked away, but I could see everything in your eyes.