My life story

My life story

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jan 12, 2018
The room I'm in is bright. Way too bright for my liking. People can see me this way and it's almost like being naked. The walls are littered with bright reds yellows and oranges, amidst other colors. Happy pictures of students and Mrs. Wrong littered the wall by the door. All of the smiles in them were surely fake, much like the laughs I'm being forced to hear right now. Fake seems to be a trend in this room, but to them its happiness and natural. Funny thing is the people chattering around me have all gossiped about each other around the school, conniving and ruthless yet most of them, even with the knowledge of the betrayal, are still happy. I definitely don't belong here. I belong in class, not here missing a, most likely, important lesson. My grades are my ticket out of here. The rest doesn't matter. It never did, so I am having trouble understanding why i have suddenly been tossed in with the "popular" crowd and why my teachers are suddenly powerless to help me.
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"As if being shoved into a locker wasn't the worst thing that's happened, I have just been shoved into the oldest, moldiest, smelliest locker in the whole school. The only beams of light comes through the three horizontal lines at the top of the locker, and all they did was show me how much dust had been aroused when I was thrown in this nasty high school locker. Great, now my asthma is going to act up. I lost my glasses at the bottom of this disgusting locker, and this is one of the rare time I was glad I was small enough to crouch down in this tiny space to retrieve them. Wait a minute. What in the world is digging into my back? Usually all the books are torn out by the stupid jocks so that they can just squish me in more. I guess they missed one. Oh well. It's not like this little detail matters. They are just going to throw me in another locker if I ask. Now the real question is, How am I getting out of here?"

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