Day 2-
Back again. This place pisses me off, honestly. School, in lack of better terms, sucked ass. I walk down the hallways, hearing the terrible names ,and feeling the stares around me. "Emo freak...Suicidal Maniac..Pussy Boy... Can he even see behind his cotton candy mop of hair?" The comments never ending, people continuing to point, mumble, and laugh. I dreaded this, I dreamed attention....
Ever since I was 11, I stood out from the average crowd. Instead of the typical fauxhawk hairdo that seemed to be in, I chose to style my hair a bit longer, flippy, apwith bangs that swept neatly across my eyes. Rather then muscle tops and sweats, I wore band tees, and skinny jeans. People said I was feminine, or gay. No, I knew my sexuality, and it wasn't gay. I simply orefered to express myself, and nit be a plastic molded Barbie, like everyone else in my life.
For being different, I was treated differently. Somedays were worse then others. I remember one time, I was writing a story about a lizard, during writers workshop, when I felt a wet, juicy glob melt into my hair. I felt my face burn, as I reached my hand to the back of my head. I nearly fainted feeling the nasty wet gum. I spent three hours getting every last bit out. That was in Seventh grade.
Basically, I'm treated like shit everywhere.....
Well, I gotta get my stuff outta my locker and head to class. Until later, whatever I call you writing thing.
-Asher Reneè Kingston
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of Asher Reneè Kingston
Novela JuvenilAsher's back, but... this s his journey up until the Boy who cried...razors?' suicide scene. it will be incredible, I'll give you this much. This, this is the boy you may have grown to love, in every possible way. Things unknown will be discovered...
