High School

March 1, 2011
Typical day in a high school. I practically ran down the hallway to my special corner until the bell rang to begin the day. Several people, I don’t really like them that much, gather around and start talking about random things that doesn’t interest me. I don’t think they know I can’t stand the way they put down other people for their sexuality or their color, or even the fact that I really don’t care that they did something stupid and possibly dangerous over the weekend.

I would much rather be alone, in my corner, with a book. The quiet solitude accompanying me alone in a corner with a book is preferred over the incessant rambling of three teenagers and their unimportant problems. I don’t, however, say anything or give any hint that this is not the way I would like to spend my mornings. I suffer through it with a smile and pretend the conversation is welcome and try to be an active part of it.

One day this deception will catch up to me and I will have to tell them to shut up so I can read. I will tell them that their problems are insignificant little smudges on the window that is their lives. I will tell them that I do not enjoy their company and that I would much rather be left alone to bask in the silence. I am a solitary being, except with people that actually stimulate intelligent conversation, or at least interesting conversation.

Most mornings I sit on the far end of the bench, distancing myself from their bubble of conversation. In these rare moments of being alone, I listen to Flyleaf or Bullet for my Valentine or whatever else happens to play on my iPod while I consider things about the day before, think about the things I will do today, or sometimes even read a novel of some kind. Occasionally I’ll think of a poem I would love to write, but I do not for fear of them noticing and reading over my shoulder. My poetry is something I prefer to keep a secret as poetry is such a personal thing.

I stopped being at school on time to be sitting on the bench when they arrive for about a week. I think this let them know that I didn’t particularly care for their company. Now they all sit in the upstairs hallway in a circle on the floor. I hope they do not think me a bad person or rude. I don’t think they do because I don’t get angry or awkward stares when I walk by with a friend. Sometimes I feel ridiculous when they talk about how hard a class like Computer Math is and then I feel the need to mention I am in a much more advanced and difficult math class and am having hardly any trouble at all, except with just flat-out laziness.

I felt even more ridiculous when I was exchanging a few words with a girl that I consider to be a friend. She was on her way to work and I was on my way to Physics class. Sometimes, I feel like no one understands me, and then I realize that there are several people in all the same classes as I am and they are in the same grade and probably experiencing similar things. There are so many things I wonder in my mind that never get put on paper, expressed aloud, or even mentioned discreetly in a conversation of a relevant topic.

I wish I could tell everyone everything. I want to let loose all the things I know, all the things I’ve experienced and all the things I continue to experience. Sadly, I do not. I keep everything inside for my own reflection. Sometimes I am happy when I reflect, most times my reflections lead to the remembrance of painful or sorrow-filled experiences that leave me in a long period of depression.

I wonder if anyone would truly understand. I wonder if people would still see me as the same person. Would they show pity? I do not want their pity. Would they show compassion? I do not want their compassion. Would they try to relate to me and say they have been through the same things? Their lies would only infuriate me and end what small amount of friendship there is. Is it understanding that I want? Do I want them to understand the things I’ve been through and that those things are the reason I am the person I am now? I suppose this is what I want, but it would never work out that way. I will keep my thoughts to myself and go through the rest of high school with a handful of fake friends and only a small cluster of people I am open with.

As the last thought reached its conclusion, I awoke in class. The bright lights blinded me into full awareness and I sat up. I remember my dream and dismissed it as simply a dream, but in all actuality it was my subconscious reasoning with itself about keeping my opinions to myself and my feelings bottled up. Practically, I know this is wrong. In reality, I think this is the right way to be and I continue to keep things bottled inside me. Eventually it will all explode out into the world and people will know me. People will truly know me.

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htrae22 said...
Mar. 8, 2011 at 7:27 pm
I understand about the math thing i am in geometery the highest class i can take and one of my friends is taking math 8 the lowest you can take and she gets mad at me because she complains how awful her math is then asks me about mine and i love mine
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