Accepting My life as a Book

School

My alarm blares loudly in the stark silence of the room. Slowly, I turn over and stand up, preparing myself for the monstrosity worse then hell, school. I grab a pair of black skinny jeans and a gray hoodie. I leave my black hair down in its natural, messy waves, brushing through it quickly, and putting my sode bangs in order. I start on my make-up, although I dont wear verry much. I apply the black mascara and eyeliner, then, noticing my lips are slightly chapped add chap stick.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I groan. I redo my hair in a messy bun, and head down stairs for breakfast, grabbing a piece of toast woth butter on it, I quickly finish it off while I walk out the door and over to school. High school, where joy comes to die.

The secon I walk in, whispers go up, and all though I can't tell what is being said, I know that their murmering about me, just like they always do. I walk the halls to get to my forst class and receive the same looks from the same people. Mostly pity and sympathetic looks, but the attention-sluts as I call them, send me jearing looks, likely jealous of the attention I am being given. I dont see why, I don't want it. I don't want the pitty or sympathy, it makes me feel weak, more broken, more lost. Yea, it sucks, my mom won't do ky hair for prom or my wedding, of I ever have one, but I can remember that on my own, without the "I am so sorry" or pathetic looks of sympathy.

Art. My last period before lunch. Lunch was the only time I had woth my one amd only best friend, Kellsy. I'm not sure if she has always been my only friend, but she is now, which is kind of a big deal. She's confident and beautiful, even slightly popular, and I'm not sure how we became friends. We are polar opposites. Her bright red hair, and green eyes, all the way to her confidence and social skills, we are opposites, but maybe that's how we work as friends. We are like sisters, replacing one friends weakness with our own strength. She's a good friend, and I can make a list of one thousand reasons why she's my sister, but my favorite thing about her, is she doesnt pitty me. To pity someone, you have to see them as weak, broken, and fragile. Kellsy understands that I'm hurt, but I don't need her sympathy pointing it out.

School is a nightmare, maybe I liked it before, but I doubt it. Although, there probably was a bit less to resemt when people weren't looking at me like I was broken glass. I suppose though, if they weren't pittying me, some of them were probably quite spiteful. All any of them seem to care about is whose bessed dressed, or what drama goes on in another persons life.

The teacher walks in, with her died red hair and glasses, her hair in a bun with pencils as usual. She is clearly in an irritable mood today, not giving us any specofoc assignment, just sketching out how we feel. Whatever that means. I quickly grab my sketchpad and a regular wood pencil, eager to avoid the rush of people bound to happen any second now. I softly sketch lines on the paper, paying little attention to the way the appear. The swoft lines appear in a range of lights and darks, meeting at the top, in what could be two horns. At the end of the class, I turn my sketchbook in, with a drawing of a monster of some kind, haveing long, blade-like fingers, and a black cloak that wisps off behind it, covering all but the under half of his eyes. I'm okay woth the assignment, and happy enough to turn in my work, but when the bell rings I find myself wanting to avoid lunch. I do that sometimes, it annoys Kellsy, but I'm sure she'll get over it soon enough.

Deciding to skip lunch, I turn and head out the front door, finding a tree and sitting under it. There's a rustling in the branches, and the smell of cigarette smoke hits my nose. Looking up, I see someone. He looks familiar, but I don't feel like I can trust him, not the way I trusted my family when I first saw them. Before I can think about im doing I hear myself "those damned things will kill you." I look back down at my toes and a stark silence comes over the strange and I. "And why would you, of all people care if I die." His voice is deep, but quite, relaxed, and yet I still detect the worries in his voice, the way one does when they hear fright in a young childs voice after a terrible nightmare. I shrug, "I don't particularly, but people dieing sucks I guess, and I know you from somewhere, although im not sure how." My gaze doesn't lift from the ground as I say it, partially because I'm horrible at conversations, and partly because he is a bot intimidating, in his black skinny jeams, studded belt, Of Mice and men tshirt, and black combat boots. "You know me, but you dont want to know how, and I dont want you to know" his voice is slightly more stern then it was before. Wothout another word he jumps down, amd walks off towards the school, his bangs somehow staying in place, and when he glances back I notice his spider bite piercings. He was attractive, but there was something about him that scared me, like I knew him before, and it wasn't the best of friendships.

The rest of the day wemt fast enough, and I finished most of ky homework in my free period and over lunch. So tonight, I would lounge in my room, and maybe clear some old things out, if I got around to it.