I tend to leave out the most important things in my life, replacing them as unnecessary, or redundant. The societal impact on teenagers is astoundingly greater than that of adults. Both are, of course, affected by social media, journalism, and modern day propaganda negatively. My life consists of an everyday cycle continuing to block out the incompetence and dull-wittedness amongst the crowded hallways, and filled classrooms in which I come to learn. Yes, I will admit, I am slightly conceded with my mindset, however, what exactly is wrong with having a little amount of confidence in yourself? Nothing of course, but I've come to learn that it's not about those palpable feelings. It's about self want, self need, and most significantly, self—
"Malcolm! Get your ass down here, now!" my mother yells
I slam my laptop, jump up from my desk, and drop it in my lightweight, black backpack. The morning sun still hasn't risen, and the bus trip will most likely be a dark, lonely ride to the very first day of senior year.
"Shit," I whisper to myself, "where is my fucking schedule."
"Malcolm, it is 8:13 and you were supposed to leave 3 minutes ago! We discussed this last night, so get your ass down here!"
My mother: lanky, brunette hair, stern face, a masculine, informative voice (or scream), quite frank with everyone she meets, somewhat two-faced; long story short: a lovely woman.
Me? Well, you could describe me as the most cynical person in the universe. Kidding... though I am of that relationship...cynical that is. Good student, author, math and science geek, somewhat popular, effectively communicable, and downright responsible. I'll have to admit: I'm not the kind of person you would hear of smoking pot and drinking Smirnoff on the weekends with their bestfriends. Not specifically my kind of fun. I enjoy reading and spending most of my time alone. I understand what you're most likely thinking: lame as hell! Well I'd rather call myself in nature as potential-driven, and I could have fun if I wanted to... maybe. Anyways, I'm not the type of person you would expect to be talked about, and I enjoy keeping it that way. The 89 day journey of quietness and stress relief is finally over, and the day of utter hell begins this morning at 8:45 AM on Tuesday, August 22. Time to begin the last 180 day journey of my high school career—Oh! I bet you were wondering why I'm a senior, and I have to ride the bus to school. Well you see, long story short, my car took an unexpected turn on Engine Explosion St., located in Satirize county. Not my favorite day.
I run down the stairs, almost tripping on the basket of laundry my mom washed last night. Another lecture of how I don't clean up after myself.
I see my mother sitting in her blue robe, glass coffee cup in one hand, TIME magazine in the other, thin bifocals perched upon the bridge of her nose, "If you're late for it, I'm not taking you. I have a doctors appointment, and it's quite more important than the perpetual signing I've been doing since you were 5."
"No need, the paper says 8:18, its 8:16; I have plenty of time," I smile.
She glares at me in annoyance, and jumps up and hugs me, wishing me a good first day and to not get too close to any of my teachers, as it helps in the long run, "... and don't forget the... I heard Jan is joining soccer... the PTA keeps sending me emails ... turn in your applications ... here is a little lunch money..." I kiss her goodbye, and walk out the door, both buoyant and uneasy. I didn't really feel as if the day would be bad, its just that first day of school feel: butterflies in the stomach, nervousness, unpreparedness... the list goes on, but somehow something just didn't seem right with me. It's something I would just have to relieve from after arriving at school.
My bus picked me up at 8:19.
