Nineteen Minutes Essay

February 15, 2010
By Saranghaeyo SILVER, Herndon, Virginia
Saranghaeyo SILVER, Herndon, Virginia
7 articles 4 photos 1 comment

Nineteen Minutes Essay: Peter vs. Matt

Today was just like all other days, quiet, lonely, and hundreds of blows to my

already beaten heart because of those vile, sorry excuses for Seniors. I almost wish Josie

and I were less discrete when we talk, we used to be the best of friends and used to share

almost everything. But who am I kidding? Now, we only speak on rare occasions, and

when she knows no one is around to see us because she’s too busy playing the popular

role, afraid that my friendship would ruin everything and that I’d ‘bring her reputation

down’. Not only that, but I wouldn’t shatter my pride anymore then it already is by

approaching her and Matt, her selfish, d***** boyfriend that she hides behind to make

herself look better. I don’t see why he can’t just call off his hoard of jock minions either,

because obviously no good is, or will, ever come out of this. I think they know this, but

yet they still use me for their own amusement as they whisper crude jokes behind my

back, calling me a h***, and picking on me every chance they can get.

Then, there’s Josie. I’m pretty sure her boyfiend thinks I’m going to try and steal

her away, what with some of the looks he gives me. Imagine that, Matt- the top of the

pyramid kind of guy; the alpha dog- thinks I’m going to try and take her away from him.

I feel that that’s sort of sad, but seeing as how I knew her before she ever laid eyes on

that jerk, maybe it’s possible that he thinks I’m a potential competitor? Ha, despite all the

crap I take, even I know that I’m not the hottest guy out there.

I walk down the hall as calm and as casual as I can be every day, yet the same

routine happens over and over again. Matt and his posse stride over to me, acting like

they’re all high and mighty, throw me around as if I’m their personal punching bag and

dump my books and papers all across the floor, then they laugh as if it’s the funniest gang

prank they’ve ever seen. Just reliving the dang past just makes my blood boil and steam

shoot out my ears until all I can see is the color red! Oh, they’ll get theirs one day, they’ll

all get it good. Until that day comes though, they can spend what little time they’ve got

left laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at my ‘geeky’ clothes, laughing at everything I

do! It’s only a matter of time before I’ll be the one cackling like a maniac at them. They

don’t know just how much anger I’ve got bottled up inside me. I almost feel like a shaken

soda bottle just about ready to explode. They say that what doesn’t kill us makes people

stronger, but in reality that’s total BS. What happens to me is not something that should

be taken lightly, this is abuse! So, in reality, what doesn’t kill us either makes us angrier,
or drives us beyond our mental capabilities!

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