The intercom shuts me up before I can say anything. It's ok. I hate speaking these days. Hate how happy people are, yet nothing cheers me up.
One of the people I know just had a baby. That's amazing. I don't believe in a deity ruling over humans, so the miracle of life is just that much more beautiful. A being from another being. And I can't appreciate it like the normal people.
We stand for the pledge, recite the government's chant of allegiance as if we are all robots. Have a moment of silence to send thoughts to a deity that created all we see through a magical command of "Let there be light!"
My "friends" all cutting up and working on their clay fish. The angel and her friend both done making the fish, and now working on the glazing of their fish. The angel is smiling. Glad she's ok. I'm sure as hell not.
But I don't care how I feel. Everyone else matters more than me. Many people have said I'm great for that. So great that I'm just friend material. I make others happy, and I get depressed at how easily their happiness comes.
I get up to go look at people's clay pieces. Be alone. Why am I alive if I hate living so much? Because of my angel? The same angel that shuts me out now? She doesn't care.
My buddies are at the computer. I go over and propose we look at the different animals that can be milked for drinking milk. Cows, goats, whales (which also happens that whale milk is the same consistency as toothpaste), but that gets old.
I think about how I can get some information to end my life.
I talk about how I could grow up to be a serial killer, and to see what pills you can overdose on and die. NSAID's cause stomach ulcers and abdominal pain. Ironic. Melatonin sleeping pills have no lethal dose. Vitamins cause nothing more than liver damage and stomach problems.
Not gonna overdose with any of these.
I say I have a totem pole to make, and decide to go into the clay room to roll a slab. I think about how I screwed up with all the girls I liked. I'm annoying and depressing. I wedge the clay harder with my pain. Harder. Even harder. I put my frustration out into the clay.
The clay is done and I roll it. I roll it slow to take more time. The people in the room with me aren't even paying attention to me. They are just talking. I'm an outcast even with the outcasts.
I didn't use enough clay on the slab, so I wedge a little more. I roll it slowly again. No one is waiting so it's fine. I can stay in here for a while. I split the little slab up into strips and attempt to make the slab bigger with the strips.
I look at the clock to see how much time I have. I have 10 minutes. Great. I wrap my clay up, wash my hands, and get my stuff. I look at my friends as they are cleaning up. My angel and her friend are cleaning too. They all look so fine without me.
I grab my stuff and wait for the bell to ring. It rings, I got to math. Ugh. Nothing fun in there. But no one bothers me either.
