As I stare out the window with no view, I start to whimper in response. At a random time. No special moment. As whatever period I was in started, I let out tears. Only a few staring. Looking obnoxiously. Faces annoying. Me almost forcing it out. Bottled up emotions during 5th period. Remember this. For it may be true tomorrow. Or don't. Just ask me later. Or let me suffer till then. Just a dumb question. Now, randomly, I wanna throw up. Time. Moving fast at home, but slow at school. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. As my boyfriend just becomes a broken memory of questions and lies to replace answers, I reminisce in suicide note ideas. My voice wavering. My mind so dizzy. Memory fuzzy. Friends have always been my top priority, but now it cant rival my anxiety. The new house creaking. My mom fighting with her new boyfriend. I new it wasn't going to last. Though it is... sure. Whatever. My last breath only a lie. I new I wasn't gonna do it. My life meaningless regardless of who knows. I don't care anymore. Unsatisfying. My drawing becoming worse as more people glare. But do you know what? Screw it. It doesn't matter. I scream until my throat is hoarse. Swearing at every passerby, yet giving them a short smile. My mind a bloody hallway, while the actual one is bustling with people. Hallucinations dragging me down. Black shadows staring me down. My mother walking up, her boyfriend still asleep. Sipping her coffee as I cry quietly. No more time. Just one more hour... one... I dont know anymore. Anyone. Noone. Someone. My anxiety fighting back. My favorite? Conveying my meaningless emotions into an imaginary canvas. This conveys my emotions. Or does it... Can you guess? My writing getting slower and more scattered. Wring up into the line above. Me eraser won't bother. Is this too much? Does this take too long? Just let me read in peace. Though, I won't let you. Never better. I swear. My tears still sweltering in 5th period. At a random time. Random room. It doesn't matter. Choosing my occupation. People still better than me at it... and that's what they wouldn't choose. People having unimaginable talent. Usually not having any regard for anything but the sweat lingering on their brow. Oh no... I think he's awake. Are you suppose to lie every day? Why do they even care. Its none of their business. They have nothing to do with this. It doesn't concern them. Their smug faces so punchable. A door closes. Emojis the only form of communication between them. Yet they "know" everything. That story I'm hooked on, it has a terrible looming presence. A bully against the gay boys. One struggling with his sexuality. My mother doesn't know. She may "wake me up" soon. The feeling of me throwing up has returned... their footsteps hollow and bare. He doesn't really care. How can I, a mere 7th grader, convey such complex emotions? I want a family someday soon. After I successfully find the perfect career. Though not expectant, it's my imagination. Rudy me of all hatred and salty tears as I pleas to my guilt. The trial marked on my cheap calendar. A clever joke, only to be struck down by my fellow classmates. I wish the day would end already. Waiting... I'm sorry. Genuinely. For ... being your friend. The trouble I have caused you is astronomical. I'm sorry for helping you through your break up, giving you a shoulder to cry on, and giving you my best wishes as you send me away. I say I'm good at drawing, but it's only a lie. I cant draw anything besides blood, sweat, and tears. For they all are liquid. Drawn the same. Brainless fools... no end to a perfect poem is my beginning.
