My high school class

I sit silently at the back of the classroom, observing.

I remember the days back in elementary school when the teachers used to go around the building sending every single one of us outside to the backyard, to play throughout the breaks, to not just sit around and do nothing. Gosh, how much I hated that, how much I wanted to say “I don’t want to” to their faces. But instead, I just tried to hide in the bathroom several times to get away with it. I went through so much bullying in primary school, which is a surprise, as kids like me usually suffer from it in high school, where I am now. But here, for some reason, people don’t hurt me mentally nor physically. They just ignore me, and I am completely fine with that.

So I like high school, kind of. No teachers came to force us to leave my safe place, so every time, just like now, I could just sit and observe.

The “popular” kids are in front of the blackboard, enjoying the situation that no adults are around. The hippie girl called Lilah is drawing something on the board, the top of her fingertips covered in chalk. Her lips are pursed, I can clearly see, as every minute she turns around to check out the only two boys in our class, whether they are looking at her ass in those leggings or not. Obviously, you are not the centre of the universe, hippie girl. I roll my eyes and pull out my phone from my pocket, to pretend I am doing something. Your face is too ugly, your eyebrow is way too arched and thin, plus the only reason your ass looks big is that you wear a legging smaller than your actual size. You are only popular because of the class’ own Bonnie and Clyde who you managed to wrap around your fingers.

Oh, Bonnie and Clyde, you inseparable assholes, making everyone’s life in this class hell by not being able to behave yourselves during the stupid classes.  I want to shout at you every single time, or even punch you in the face. You always laugh out loud throughout the teacher’s lecture when nothing is funny, with that whale, hysterical howl. And make harassing comments.

They are parading around Lilah, blaring their rap music from the cheap speaker they always bring with themselves to school. Your awfully annoying, temple-torturing rap music, which I bet you don’t even like, you just listen to it because you think it makes you look badass. Let me tell you the truth, it does not. It is extremely cringing as you are dancing around in front of the whole class.

I sigh in frustration and move on from the golden trio, as you call yourselves, ew. I cannot watch them anymore, or I am going to throw up.

I observe more, this time glancing towards the bitch section. Cindy is kind of popular too, but the quiet kind. You are only famous because you were born pretty, but there is an empty eggshell inside your head. Just as this thought crosses my mind, she pulls out a tiny mirror from her bag – which is, of course, not a proper school bag, but the one you’d go with for a night out – and starts fixing up her makeup. You can’t even fit all your books in that, it is so obvious you only carry it to keep up with today’s fashion trends. Evelyn, her sidekick is gossiping in her ear, and once in a while, they giggle. You probably talk about boys and who you have had sex with so far, assuming without protection. You are going to get pregnant right after graduation, idiots. If not before.

Fuck you for having to be so perfect, though. I wish you’d go through my phase of acne when I could do nothing about it and everybody looked at me like I was a freak.

As my eyes jump from the Barbie dolls to the nerd, my sorrow feelings about myself slightly ease. Eve is lost in her phone with earphones in her ear, trying to be invisible. Don’t worry kiddo, I would probably try to be invisible too if my name would be Eve Adam, like yours. It’s like your parents already knew you were going to be a disgrace. But I see you, you cannot do anything about it. Hell, you are kind of like me. Trying to hide from any hurtful comments. The only difference between you and me is that I actually care about how I look. You should, too. I see your greasy hair, what you probably haven’t washed in months, and I could probably smell your breath stinking from wasabi chips if I’d be closer. I am sorry, but that is the wounding truth.

“Hey,” suddenly Sarah nudges me in between my ribs, so I turn to her. She is my friend, but probably I’d judge her too if it wasn’t for 3 years of friendship and the love of the same band that keeps us together. What? I want to say in a rather rude manner, but I stop myself.

“Our class is just the worst, isn’t it?” She continues while dropping a piece of Smarties in her mouth. “Full of dipshits. What do you think?” I agree.

However, the anxiety of actually speaking my mind suddenly comes crashing down, and I find myself lost. It’s like a knot formed on my tongue and I am unable to speak, not even to my friend. My classmates could hear me. They could hear my true opinion about them, and then it would be over for me. I would experience the bullying like I did in primary school, and I cannot, I cannot go through that again. It destroyed me mentally, that is why I am so fucked up.

However finally, I lower my normally quiet voice even more and say “Yeah, guess they are.”

Yeah, I guess they are.