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A Day In the Life of an American Teenager

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As I step in the front door, all I feel is remorse for leaving the warm shelter of my own bed. That familiar feeling that I have every morning at about eight o'clock. The door that i have opened has a large metal frame with glass that is locked when the first bell has rang. This is only one of the friendly reminders that when I step inside this crowded (often smelly) building, I am not here by choice.

Walking up those all to familiar stairs going to my locker, I think to myself "Ok, it's Monday. Only four more days until the weekend."

Walking, I keep my head down and make a bee line for the locker that seems to be the most popular to stand in front of,...mine. I set my bag down close to the crowd and take off my coat. My coat,....the last remaining warmth I have left that I knew I would have to eventually give up. This is the final reminder of the uncomfortable day ahead. From the room temperatures, to the squeaky-perky-voices, to the chairs we have been provided with.

As I take out my books for the classes I don't enjoy, I look around to see the faces of a small school. All the faces that I have grown up with. Most of them I don't know anymore than I do just by looking at them. Their outside shells, put on display for everyone to judge.

Looking at those empty shells, I try to pick out the people that make my day a little less miserable. Those select few who know more than just my outside display. The ones who are the least bit interested in what I have to say and think. These few people are the reasons why I don't break out and scream when I feel like I can't control....well....anything in my life.





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