I sat in history class, Mr. Tweeny rambling on about Lewis and Clark. The teacher really didn't
fit his name, rather large and slightly grotesqe. Sweat stains already under his arms. Sun filtered
through the shadless windows, illuminating the dank room. Tan walls, the never ceasing tick
from a clock that must have been older then me, and a few posters on the walls. But the walls
ever so familiar, the same colour in every room. I hate them, everyday the same thing. You'd
think though June second the walls would be fine keeping some of the unusually hot New York
humidity from seeping into the school. But they really are no comfort even with the end of school
so tangible I could already taste the night's of being hold up in my room till 3:30 am just instant
messaging people on Yahoo.
Sitting in the Middle of my classroom, in my mindless self rambling a little voice lightly begins
taunting me. Even more familiar then the wall was that voice. The anti-self, such a horrible little
thing. How it tears at me. So true were the lines 'I'm my own worst enemie.', and then the panic
finally sets in. It feels like my whole body is shaking...I can't handle this. Not again. I sit on my
hands hoping no one will notice, my feet jitter, I want to run a away so bad. But I can't, I wont let
myself. Thoughts are racing through my mind. Things wont stop and I almost forget to breathe,
in the chaos. 'Just SHUT UP!' I scream to myself in my head. It's here in my own black oblivian I truely
understand the concept of suicide. It's not that I want to kill myself but death seems like the only
way to stop the voice.
The bell rings, I almost jump from my crummy seat. The rusted metal screws holdin the frame
and puke green plastic seat and table together. I scrammble to pick up my binders covered in
different band insignea's. A few people look at me like what I interprit to be as "your a loony"
look. I pull the hood from my sweater up over my head. Staring at the floor counting the steps out
of the room and down the hallway. My binders pressed against my chest. The fever of panic rising.
I don't even think Edgar allan Poe could capture my unexplainible fear right now. 206 steps later i make
it to the girls bathroom. I pushed the door open with my finger tips careful not to make any noise.
I looked around and made sure no one was thier. I ran into the closest stall and locked the door behind
me. Finger scrunching up my hair back pressed against the wall I slouched down. 'How could this be happening