​#555555

Suddenly, one day, I will have to wake up from this endless winter. Who is there to witness? Beware: the field ends. The ending starts. Does the ending end? Ahh, why can’t I just live? I want to be my very own person.

One day…

I wake up. This is how my life will be decided by me, and me only. Once I wake up, I frequently stay in bed, overwhelmed by this forever tiring, worthless existence. Is it useful to overcome how I can truly exist in my own manner, or does it just exhaust me further? Once I finally get up, after hearing my mother yelling from the kitchen, asking if I’ve even got dressed, I lazily transport to the kitchen, near the door. I stall. I don’t wish to go outside; I don’t wish to talk to anyone but me. I can’t interact with anyone else. Once it hits around 7:13, I am urged to leave.

Outside.

As I leave to go outside with my brother, who simply only exists to trouble my absolute motives and never let me escape… It’s too cold. I whimper silently as the cold goes through my hat, my hood, my coat, my sweatshirt, and my gloves. What was the point of layering up, if the only thing I will feel is cold? I wait, counted for at least 10 minutes, that bus… The bus is warm, with those heaters… And, I choose to fall asleep or not on the bus. I almost immediately wake up to a headache and another cold coming from the outside of that forcefully, shoving school.

Inside.

As I enter the school, I am immediately greeted by a gigantic hallway, everyone sitting on sides of it. I am forced to walk through as a gallery, as nobody knows me, they look at me anyway. Why can’t I be ignored? When I finally reach my group of people I know… or at least listen to. I just get greeted by 2 people, usually Christopher, or maybe Jaden, who calls my by ‘Simcha,’ the middle of my Hebrew name. I wait, again. This time, maybe 3 minutes. Everyone around me there usually ignores me. I’m only noticed by people who don’t know me… and the people who do know me too well to want to notice me. Is this how I live? Hah… it’s almost like I talk to people on autopilot. I sound so cheerful, do I? I don’t want to. I want to sound like how I truly sound. I don’t wish to be annoying. I have a perfect immune system, and I’m very healthy, but I’m so skinny and socially alienated at the same time…

The Bell.

As that bell rings, everyone gets up, shoving me around as if I don’t exist to them. Although I feel so mature, nobody would notice anyway. I don’t feel that bad, I would tell myself. I’m unable to see what’s happening where I forever were to be. Those teachers always call me brighter than the other students, but I’m never getting work done. I never even start the work to begin with. Only is my true intelligence used when I can do work without having to worry about what it could be like… without others. I used to be in an High School Algebra class in 6th grade, but I just wouldn’t ever do work. Of course I got downed back to a normal, advanced level.

My mother is concerned about something like me. I go to a therapist at school at Orchestra, but I only treat this as a tool to skip Orchestra on mondays… I never tell them anything true, and trust me: I’m good at making people think I’m doing well. I dislike my case manager, as they are very clearly using things like conversational urging. I don’t wish to be controlled in any way or form that isn’t by me. Goodbye.

First Period.

In history class, also stepped back to normal from a very advanced regime, I noticed how my oversized jacket, in many layers, is making me look far too big. I’m rather short… The history teacher usually calls on me to give the class a good example of a finished assignment. But even with how good those are, I’m never doing my best. I never will achieve anything further, and nor do I wish to. Goodbye, a silent remorse.

Second Period.

Science class is one of the only classes where I don’t have to do much. I often forget how much missing work I truly have. Sometimes, when I just do nothing, it looks like I can’t do anything. I got a 236 on my math MCAP, which is average. I didn’t put any effort into math, nor did I wish to. As such, people often compare their own scores to each other, even though it’s meant to represent growth, not intellectuality. In science class, someone who sits across from me, who does nothing but play games all class, just says “I bet I’m at least smarter than Max… I got a 243” I don’t even stop him. It’s as if the people around me can’t understand their own thoughts like I do… The only person who even attempts to defend me is some random person next to me, in which me and my… nonself clown on Nicholas with. Why must I be downplayed by idiots?

Third Period.

I thought about what Nicholas said the entire following day, out of a bit of rage. When it’s finally the 3rd period, Orchestra.. The therapist doesn’t bring me, as of recently. They think I can’t tell, but they are clearly just using me and my family for money. I don’t mind, I have given up on such. My dad always told me that the doctors want you to be sick so they can milk more money from you. I suppose it’s true… Sometimes, I hide my violin so I don’t have to play. Since the teacher actually has a few brain cells and sometimes checks… But it’s rather easy to hide, still. Once I went through to get my instrument, because I was slightly late. There were 2 people talking there, I really didn’t have the time for this. I forgot greetings just went through them to get to a cubby. I suppose I looked like I had some form of anger issues, because they started laughing at me and said how I need to calm down, and it’s just a school. I just make an alienated “what,” quite literally not even knowing I said that until after, which makes them laugh more. They will probably forget… The gash will regenerate. The wound heals immediately, did it ever scar..?

Hello, goodbye. I sure love greetings and condolences, don’t I? I haven’t mentioned yet, this school doesn’t have any advanced English or philosophy classes. I would feel so true if there were, I suppose one day I’ll forget all about this. Whatever comes from the cocoon cannot be predicted. Whatever comes from the cocoon cannot be counterfeited firsthand. Oh, why do the things we all carry go with us? All fell things, stay down with me. This fake, bedridden cocoon of insignificance has no true skies to rise to. Dodging matters right in front of me; goodbye, a solemn remorse.

Fourth Period.

In the 4th period, it moves to Physical Education. While I’m not gifted at all in physical fitness, for some reason, I can do many things very easily even without the labor needed. I can run faster than most of my classmates, and get fast records on the miles. However, I didn’t sign up for Polar Bear, so I can’t go outside in the winter. I usually just stay inside, either going to circuit training or just boringly talking, forcing myself to talk as someone I’m not to people I’m not. Sometimes, someone I like will interact with me, but the thing is: I know when somebody doesn’t care and is just using me, and it’s very clear wherever I go. Sometimes, when I’m asked my favorite color, I’ll just say orange. I like orange, but it’s really just second. What I really like is Davy’s Grey. I really like grey, but I’ll be called weird for saying it. Not that I actually care, it’s just that if people think that, they won’t understand the true feature of the color.

Fifth Period.

When it’s advisory, I either have to do something, or don’t have to. Today, I just wrote. Wrote on a paper… The paper is written by others, unable to change. But who is there to lend their tears? ‘The Paper Drawn Downstairs.’ Perhaps the paper came from just part of a big, giant bark of a tree. Maybe the paper is just paper after all? A degraded, useless piece of a tree that could have grown. Ink entered my bloodstream once… What a waste of existence. There’s someone named ‘Jason’ in some of my classes. Everyone knows him for some reason. I don’t really see what’s that good about him, sure, he can talk to people, but it’s almost like everyone appreciates him for his popularity rather than his own ideals. Sometimes, I feel less than others, and sometimes I feel better. Being equal is the true best point. But nobody would care to listen to my ideals. Perhaps people like Jason because he defends people? Somebody once called me some kid because they didn’t know my name, and Jason said that I’m Max, not ‘Kid,’ but I could easily tell they were only saying that to look better. Ahhh, when will people know me?

When it’s finally lunch, I just buy lunch. I either sit at the front, with Jaden, Jacob, Dylan, Bryson, Cody, and Abraham, which are almost all in very advanced programs, especially somebody like Jacob… but we are not the same. I’m usually secluded from things people do there. I have to make way for other people to sit like Landon, even though I’ve known Jaden, Jacob, Abraham, and Dylan for years before any of the others have… and whenever I take my seat back, they tell me to just move again. The only people who ever defend me there are Everett, Landon, or sometimes Jacob. I either sit there, or at the back where the only people I can talk to are Liam and Derek. Derek and Liam actually enjoy talking to me, but everyone else there just hates me simply for existing. People like Robert will just ask to ‘kick me from the table.’ Which most people agree with, because people at that table just don’t listen.

Sixth Period.

When it goes to 6th period for English, I usually don’t bring my Jekyll and Hyde book. I always feel like the things I’m reading are far too simple for me to get invested in. I instead bring things such as ‘The Wings’ by Yi Sang or ‘The Metamorphosis’ by Franz Kafka, which the main teacher usually asks if I’m reading. I am reading, and won’t stop. I can’t stop. I will never stop. Sometimes I think. I don’t stop thinking. My brain feels like a mechanical supercomputer that just doesn’t stop. Anyways, where I sit, I am next to Landon, from lunch, and Matteo, who I guess is kind of a friend? We keep talking about very, very strange things that would sound confusing to other people. This isn’t what I want to talk about. But it feels like nobody can match how I think. The wings spread, but who is there to truly notice? Many people have their hands full just living. Breaking from the tainted, social cycle by enlightening your purity within you doesn’t make you better than other people. The cycle is just an imagination, struck down from the fat gods over us. Everyone is an equal person, accessories taken off. Feel your wings, but shan’t sprout them.

Seventh Period.

Once English ends, I go to math for 7th period… The once-intelligent display of me doesn’t do much math anymore. I sit with Landon there and talk with Liam quite a lot. In which I often cause people to do less work. I can’t tell if this is good or bad. Besides that, I think too much in math class. You could call me some kind of… ‘Concept Creator?’ If you’ve ever heard of a Concept Incinerator, I don’t know how to put it. I am very good at visceral descriptions of things. I create so much, and get no praise for my work because there is nobody to share it with. The 7th period often feels short, Orchestra, the 3rd period being the longest. Sometimes I relate to Yi Sang. As if I could just sprout wings and fly away from this endless cold. Why is this life so stale? Please, fly once more.

Eighth Period.

Finally, in the 8th period. Which by far is my favorite. I sit next to Dylan, who I would call a very kind person, socially? He’s kind of like Jason. Far too many people know him. This time, I don’t even know why. What do any of these people have that I don’t…? I don’t want to be known anyway. I have Theatre 8th period. It’s very nice. The teacher is a nice person and a lot of my friends go to this same class. We usually just put our chromebooks away at this time. Sometimes I’ll keep it there so I can write with it. My actual handwriting is very VERY bad, so typing makes it very easy. Does the halo float overneath because it was forced to, or because it was supposed to? This is the dilemma of existentialism. The halo can be interpreted as a shining object to represent divinity, or just a bright, incandescent light that people are drawn to. Absurdity truly is something, isn’t it? “Act as the light is divine!” Could be said, but, this is a mere command. Acting is not being. Purity cannot be forced, it’s always there. If you end up staring for too long at something so bright, you’ll go blind… 8th period feels the shortest. Robert acts differently here than from lunch. Maybe he’s misunderstood too? He seems to be rather judged by his actions.

Afterschool Club.

When the final bell rings, I still have an after-school club for drama and acting. I have a lead role, so it seems almost pressuring. I’ve thought of just skipping it before. I am very good at acting but I can’t remember. Sometimes, those around me are judged for their acting, I’m usually left out. Is it a pity? As such is said of the actor, another actor criticizes the act, and then that actor is acting the other actors act, the actor acts as if criticizing the other actors act as a character rather than a person within the actors act… Actor, why must I act? I always appear weird to other people, I look rather unattractive, and I seem annoying. I’m good at acting annoying too… I suppose that’s one of the reasons why everyone treats me with such contempt. I look and appear annoying, which means I probably am annoying. Goodbye again; a sorrowful remorse.

Outside… just once more.

Finally, the school day ends, I only have 3 hours left for the day. I’m too busy… As I walk home, it rains. It rains, although I feel it should snow. Where do the endless raindrops come from? As such, water is very similar to myself. The water is clear, with an unlimited source of clarity. But is the rain ever criticized for something it has done revealed? No. Because the water cannot do such, and, you can’t see what’s within the water, just an interpretation of what we see it as. As I look up from the shady umbrella, I question once again, where is the rain from? I walk home, continuing. The sky rips, as if the gashing wound was scarred into existence by everything to have been seen by these tainted, impure views–the scalding blood of life pours upon all. The blood is warm, warm blood; full of emotion. Unlike the rainwater seen by that shaded umbrella, the blood has no clarity. The insides are red, just like this shell of this wretched body. That festering wound will regenerate, but for what reason? Oops, I left that out. The sky doesn’t rip, I do.

Inside… just once more.

I call my real friends who actually listen to me. There’s Jace, Evan, Liam, and sometimes Eggo. We would talk all day, discussing things new, or just looped around in this endless cycle. My dad, who gets very mad, tells me to play piano or else I won’t know how to do anything in life. Thank you very much, I do know many things, you just don’t know me. Before going to play piano I just look into the mirror. The glass is clear, full of clarity. If you look closer, you notice the I from the mirror. The clarity is simply the bridge between you, and the you that never came. The halo was so bright, yet so fake. A tragedy: We fell behind the mirror once. Sometimes, I find myself staring quite too long at the I’s unfurled wings and glowing halo. The world that could never be. I go to play piano, even though I really don’t want to. My dad forces me to set a 15 minute timer, because he still thinks I’m so braindead that I can’t even recognize time… I suppose it’s possible to see that out of me.

Goodbye; yours truly.

He then tells me to take the trash out to the curb, which I do afterwards… I forgot to turn off the alarm and lock the door, so he yells at me. I decide to forcefully ignore what he’s saying, knowing he’ll only think of me as what I am and never what I can be. My parents argue frequently, it feels bad, but can be ignored easily. I just go back to my computer or phone for the last 2 hours I have. All of the day was spent on something unenjoyable, something fake. My mom even put a screentime on my phone because she thinks that something’s wrong with me… I’ve given up on things. I’ve given up on romance, academics, everything. I live with this. People’s emotions define their current self. I can’t change. I have a lot of trouble sleeping. I just get up, and stare at the mirror for an hour straight. Maybe I should talk to the mirror? I tell the mirror to help, but it says that it could only help me if I help it. I don’t need or want help, anyway. Goodbye. Fly. As one, I pray nobody will generalize me anymore. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Fly, fly fly fly fly fly fly!