A Story Becoming Reality by Patricia Galindez (e book reader TXT) 📖

no fucking tomorrow.

I mentally groaned, now wishing that I was obsessed with death cause I really wanted to kill myself right now then work with them. Walking to their table, I dropped my stuff, and sat down. Then, Mrs. Lopez said we have to interview one of the people in the group, and from what you learned from that person, you're suppose to come up with three things that symbolizes them. Sounds pretty easy if I didn't have to work with these giggling girls, but I'm pretty sure I could already come up with three things that can symbolize one of these girls without the interview.

Everyone got started on the assignment, so I turned to my group, but looks like they're not going to start anytime soon. All three girls were just giggling and gossiping about who knows what; I wouldn't give a shit.

I cleared my throat, "Don't you think we should get started on the assignment?" I asked. But, it seems like they didn't even hear me, like I was invisible. It's one of those things I hate. It's when people ignore me when I try to get their attention, or when I'm talking to them. So, not only am I a social outcast, but I'm also invisible. They kept talking like I wasn't even there, so I didn't dare telling them that we have work to do, that means I would be wasting my time and breath.

I was glad class has ended, I seriously couldn't take more of their yapping, it was giving me a headache. My next class was biology, which i despise with all my being. The teacher was so disorganized and what others say, stupid. I couldn't agree with them more. People might think this class held delinquents, they cause nothing but trouble and almost never get in trouble, so I wouldn't know why would I be placed here. Some steal some of his stuff and he would never notice something was missing. Like I said before, the teacher is disorganized. And when the teacher's not looking, students would sneak to his computer, changing their grades. I wouldn’t mind doing it myself, since I'm practically failing.

Anyway, I just walked inside sitting in my desk by the teacher's desk. Before, the tables were arranged in groups. I sat with a group that they were cool to talk to, but we were mostly invisible since we were at the far back of the class in the corner. Sadly, now the tables are in rows, so now I'm by myself being the mute of the class. The teacher even knows I'm a mute and wouldn't speak loud enough to read out loud, so he never picks me to read. What's bad enough about this class, it's that there's 98% of immature guys in this room.

Throughout the entire class period, I wasn't paying attention, biology is so boring, and it would be a miracle if I end up passing the class.

The bell rang for third block, and it's my favorite class. Art. It has always interested me doing creative things. This class has group tables, but I don't mind, the people that sit in my group are cool. I sometimes talk to them, but we just remain as acquaintances with each other.

We were told to do a painting about how our lives would look like to us. I guess this is something simple to do. The way I see my life, it's all bland and gloomy. I got my canvas and brush, now I'm ready to paint. What I imagine of how I'm going to do this is to grab any paint that could be bland and gloomy mix them together on the canvas, and there would be my master piece. I got my paint and got started.

In the last ten minutes of class, our teacher told us we'll be showing our work and explain to everyone how the painting resembles your life. For the record, I'm not a huge fan of presenting something in front of people; sometimes I even freeze up and make a fool of myself, then later on this moment would haunt me forever. Trust me, I've had moments like that that I can't even forget even if I wanted to. It's another thing I hate about myself, I'm too shy, and it stops me from wanting to do something. I can imagine writing a book about how wrong and messed up I am. I could since I'm a writer, but I rather not waste my time writing about what waste of life I am.

I finished cleaning at the same time the bell rang. I grabbed my stuff heading towards lunch. As I walked to lunch, I decided that I should skip it today. I'm still trying to lose weight by not eating, besides I don't think anything they're serving appetizing. Today it seems their giving out mini cheese burgers all wrapped up. It may look decent enough to eat, but it taste like crap to me.

I went to sit in my spot on the floor in a corner outside. I always liked having lunch outside with the fresh air. It's awkward if I had lunch inside sitting next to people I don't know. I took out my Ipod and played "Monster" by Skillet. As I was listening, I spotted Donovan in the lunch line. The only time I ever get to see him is at lunch. I only with I had some classes with him.

He got his lunch and went towards his friends, with me secretly watching him walk away. I know it's kind of stalker-ish, but I can't help it. Every time I look at him I'm filled with joy, but also emptiness; I have a empty hole where my heart should be. Of course, there was a heart in that empty hole, but it seems he has stolen it from me. I just wish he knew I exist and returned the feelings towards me. I will always feel empty inside without love. I don't know, sometimes I think I wasn't made to have someone love me. If it's my fate, then I guess I'll have to accept it instead of waiting for the one. But, I still long for love, crave it, needing it to survive, and if I don't have it, might as well not live. Everyone deserves it, though I have no point in living if I never get it. The thought of never finding someone that could love me brings tears into my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

The whole time I was watching Donovan, but I had to tear my eyes off of him or I'll probably break down into tears. I sighed, the feeling of being weak by crying just makes me feel worthless; I hate it. Why do I have to be the weak, worthless, and ugly girl on this Earth? The Earth doesn't need someone like me living on it. I'm starting to feel hot anger towards myself, and I have to get rid of it. I could kick or hit something, but I'm still in lunch, and people would look at me like I'm crazy. "I know," I whispered to myself. I dug in my back pack finding my thumbtack that I use for emergencies only. By emergencies, I mean when I feel like I need an emotional release. I wouldn't think about cutting; one, I wouldn't go that extreme, and two, I'm not too good with the major pain that will come later. But, this is as close as self-harming it's going to get.

I make sure no one was watching me closely to what I'm about to do, but no one was really paying attention. I glide the tack across my arm, not enough to draw blood, but just a scratch. After a while, I felt normal again, the anger almost gone, but it'll have to do for now. Man, I really wanted to go home and stay in my room. My parents worry about me spending too much time in my room, but I don't give a damn, it's the only place I get to be alone without facing anyone. My room is my shelter from the world.

Finally, the bell rang, though I didn't feel like going to class, so I'll just skip it. I got up and went to the bathroom. I walked in, going straight to the huge stall. You know when there are small stalls along with a big one? Yeah, that one. Settling my bag on the floor, I went and sat on it. Inside my body, I feel pain and so much sadness. The tears that threaten to spill finally came pouring down my cheeks. Why couldn't things appear the way I want them once in a while?

The tears stopped after a while, and luckily no one came in the bathroom and heard me cry. I won't want someone to find me like this and kept telling me what's wrong. I hate it when people ask me if I'm okay, because one, It's not like they actually care, and two, it gets annoying.

It was getting extremely boring just sitting here for the rest of class, but then I thought about the book I had with me. I got off my bag and went to take out my book. As soon as I took it out, I realize I was still in the middle of reading “Out of the Dust”. This was my favorite book to read when I'm feeling down. And I think it's unique, too. The whole story is written in variety of poems. It's also depressing, considering it's the time of The Great Depression. I love how the Character expresses their feelings in this book, it's like I could feel it, too. I was so deep in the story that I wasn't expecting the finial bell to ring. I gathered my things, getting out of the bathroom. Skipping class today was not really my first time doing it. Sometimes, I only skip a class when I'm not in the mood for it. What will my parents think about it? They would ask me why they were notified of me not being in one of my classes. My method, it would be lying. Who doesn't lie about things like this? In the end, they always believe me. But, they think if I ever did, they would turn, mostly my mom, into my therapist. I hate it when they do that, they treat me like I'm a troubled teen. Even thought I kind of am. I want them to treat me like a person, someone who needs someone there for them. They claim that they care about me, but it doesn't seem like it.

I got in the car not saying a word like I always do. I don't feel like having a conversation with my dad. Then again, I never do.

The drive was quick, I got out, leaving to go to my room. As soon as I walked in, I laid on my bed. Just laying there thinking made me realize how unexciting and boring my life is. I don't have friends to hang out with; I'm too shy and quiet. Sometimes I'm lucky to have a few friends, but they'll end up leaving me in the end. They'll forget about me as soon as they're with their other friends. It's like I never entered their lives. When I arrive home, I go straight here, blasting music as I pity myself. I'm all lonely at school, sometimes I spot Donovan, wishing I could at least have a chance with him. He's so near yet so far away. What can I do to change things? That answer to that was still not found.