Vice City

02|Snow

India

I sighed deeply as I sat in third period math. I hate trig with a passion. I don't know why they teach us bullshit like this when we're never going to use this in real life.

I looked down at my newly bandaged arm. I shook my head, knowing that I was the cause for all the thin, silver scars up my arms and in between my thighs.

I'm disgusting.
I'm unlovable.
I'm broken.

I looked over to the other side of the class. The only person who was worth waking up everyday.

He was staring into space, just as bored as me. His split colored dreads were in two pigtails, which made him look so adorable.

Jahsah was the only nigga to pull off black nails, chokers and pigtails, and make it look scary and dark. I loved it.

He was quiet and only talked to his two friends. He was the happiest with them, but alone he looked just as depressed as I felt.

He's never with a girl, and doesn't even look at them. Maybe he's gay. I don't know.

I hope not.

As you could see, I like to observe him like he's a puzzle, waiting to be solved. I can't solve it, since I'm so broken as it is.

The bell rang, waking him. He looked around, before getting up and leaving the class with the rest of the class.

Before I left, I noticed that there was a note on his desk. It was folded neatly, like he wanted me to find it. I walked over to his desk, took the paper and walked out, going to lunch.

●●●

At lunch, I sat with my sister's friends. They usually don't talk to me, since they think I'm too weird. I only sit with them so I don't feel as alone as I really am.

As they continued to discuss simple high school drama, I unfolded the note from Jahsah's desk.

"I see Black skies, and white lies I'd rather be
Dead, filling my head with different enemies
Thoughts consuming me"

I read the note about three times. To say it was beautiful was an understatement at best. But did he truly feel this way about life?

I quickly scanned the lunch room for black and blonde pigtails, until my eyes landed on him. He was alone, in the back of the lunchroom. He was also writing in a tattered notebook. He looked so content at the moment.

Did he really feel this way? Did he really understand me?

Dedicated to slumpprincess