salty tears

five.

january 14th | 11:58 pm

Unfortunately, I had to go to school today and I was not prepared for it.

Nothing exciting happened at school; no drama, no fight, nothing. It was a regular boring Monday and all I could think about was writing my thoughts down in this stupid journal. I call this journal stupid a lot but really it's my little baby that I treasure and adore with all my heart. If someone were to get their hands on this journal, I would crumble and fall apart and die. I would die emotionally and possibly physically too. If they were to read anything, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. They'd have read all of my thoughts and see me at my worst state possible.

I always write at night with a window open. I always lay in the same position where I am not too cold nor too hot. Once I am finished pouring my soul out, I put it in the back of a drawer. No one checks my drawers, my family and even my mother would know that I don't have the guts to smoke marijuana or do a line of cocaine. It didn't mirror me and I'm glad it doesn't.

School was okay. I hung out with some friends during lunch and I listened to their meaningless stories. Sounds so awful of me to criticize them but how could I not? Their stories weren't applicable to my life and it didn't make a difference. I was too busy anyway to keep their stories in my head. The boy who broke my heart was there too. It was a nice exchange not awkward at all. I wasn't going to suddenly change so he could notice how he hurt me, I didn't want that type of attention from him.

Another close friend of mine had discussed her grades with our group. Everyone complained of their low eighties and some even complained of their nineties.

I wish I could tell them how it felt to live with low sixties and the thought of just barely passing each class. Gym was an exception. I think if you failed gym you were just an outright moron. School's never been my forte but I'm still forced to go because of the fear of facing my dad at nine in the morning and his intense questioning of why I was still home.

They didn't know of my grades. They would never know of my grades. I don't want them to think less of me when I tell them I can't memorize the parts of a stupid goddam leaf and its the reason why I'm failing biology. It's easy to keep quiet about test grades, they don't pry much. I'm thankful for that. Though they have their flaws, I appreciate them quite a lot. They sometimes listen to my rambling and give me advice. Every time they do, I always go on and on about how they should become a licensed therapist.

They just laugh at me and my hilarious jokes.

I wonder if the teachers think I'm a complete idiot. I occasionally ask questions and I'm so sure that they are so stupid because of how they stand in front of the classroom. They're very awkward whenever they respond to any of my questions. I feel bad for them.

I came home from school earlier than usual. My gym teacher wasn't there and since gym is my last class I decided to leave early. Of course, doing so, I had to sneak past the fat security guard. I don't understand this school's logic. How could an unfit guy, who runs out of breath easily, take down any type of threat? It was only a ten-minute walk, not like I would pass out.

Anyways, I came home to the place looking like an absolute mess. The number of broken bottles and shards of glass on the floor was indescribable. I heard some sort of grunting noise in the kitchen and I knew it was my mother, drunk. My father wasn't home, so I didn't know, and still can't figure out, why my mother decided to throw around her bottles of alcohol. I peeked over the wall to see her on the floor like a toddler who had his pacifier taken away. She was the definition of a mess. I saw some blood on her. I didn't know what to do at the moment. I wasn't lucky enough today because she saw me and I saw something frightening. Her face of despair had transformed into a rage and pure hatred. I ran to my room and locked the door.

I have a headache now because of her constant banging on the door. It sounded like thunder and I felt so alone. I went to call my brother but all I got was voicemail. I didn't bother leaving a message, he would call back.

There is peace now as I write. I think she fell asleep. I also think I'm on the verge of a breakdown. I don't want to have one now, it's late and I have school tomorrow; questions regarding puffy eyes wouldn't do me any good.

That's it for today. There are so many things I wish for, though. If I could have the thing I wish for the most it'd be a blessing from God himself.

Something I wish for: my comforting brother, Olly.