More Internal Than External Part 2

Pt. 2 – Somebody Someone

By DiRtY

As always when the first bell rang, it was a race. Pushing, pulling, poking…who doesn’t like it? I barely got to Math class, seconds away I was from being late. “As I was going over the test that you all took on Friday,” said Ms. Warren, handing the graded sheets out. “Most of you did very well, and some of you need to see me”. When I received my paper, I refused to look at the front to it. “Please, let it be a 70.” I said in my head. I slowly turned it around to see the numbers “38” painted in red and the words “SEE ME” next to them. At that moment, my day had officially been dead. I stared into space for the past 45 minutes and just wrote in my math notebook “Loser, Cheater, Failure, Liar” in a constant order. It was the only thing that that prevented me from bursting into tears. The second bell rang, time for English class.

English, I’d truthfully say was my favorite class. My teacher, Mr. Mastromarnio was the coolest teacher I’ve ever met in my life. He would have a wide array of jokes and one-liners to make the most boring lesion a fun one. “Hey, how are you all doing today?” he said as a well-known class opener. “Good Mastro” the class would say simultaneously. I dared not to answer, my day had ended the way I dreaded. I went through the whole class not paying any attention, lost in my own world that I had some how created. I was in a battle between my mind and myself. “You’ll never live to be 20! You are a sorry sack of shit like your father is!”  “Shut the fuck up!! You don’t exist! You’re not real!” I said in my mind. I quickly put my head down and began to cry. My tears came down hot and painful. I shook my head, fighting the voices. They were winning. My crying became at this time now uncontrollable. It was impossible to stop them now. I kept my head down for the rest of the class, waiting for the next one to come, so I could be around people in more ways than one. I began to mutter to myself, a poor but plausible effort to stop the crying. “So I fall face down in a rut I can’t seem to get out of. Please wake me, please give me some of it back the feelings I had…sometimes I wish I could be strong like you, it doesn’t matter. Each time I wake, I’m somehow seeing the truth I can’t handle…” Some strong words for a weak person.

To Be Continued…