Dissolving

*2

I have a vague feeling of opening my locker.

Walking to class.

Sitting on a chair.

Staring at a book.

I know a couple of classes have passed. I'm not sure how many.

It feels like everything's happening in a split second

But it also feels like everything is moving at a glacial pace.

Then I here the screech of the bell and I see everyone stand up.

Some are packing their books. Some are already walking out of the class. Everyone is relaxed.

I lift up my wrist to check the time.

13:30.

Oh. It's already the end of the day.

I'm relieved that the day is over. Relieved that I don't have to stare at books I won't understand anymore. A weight should be lifted, yet it isn't.There's something else.

A cloud. An anchor, stopping me from fully breathing out for the freedom that I have for the rest of the day.

I tell myself not to dwell on it for too long.

Talking. Chatting. Murmuring. It's all background noise as I walk down the corridors.

Everyone's walking against me, rushing to leave school grounds as soon as possible. Bumping into me every few seconds as I try to make it through.

Shoulders and school bags on every other person hit me. Feet steeping on me

It bothers me, how it seems they can't see me, but I just keep going.

Another weight is added to the anchor.

I get to my locker. Carefully placing books I won't need inside and picking out all the subjects in which I have homework.

Take it out, check the subject, place it in the locker. Take it out, check the subject,place it in the bag.

I repeat this process over and over again.

I place the last book in my bag, my math book and I see a sliver of paint on the cover.

A perfect, immaculate white cover tainted by a smear of deep, red acrylic paint.

There is no avoiding it.

Your eye just slides down to it.

No matter how small it is.

The imperfection cannot go unnoticed.

And I smile.