Is It a Life Worth Missing?

One Wednesday morning I started my day by slugging out of bed and groaning my way to the bathroom. I hate mornings, especially in the middle of a school week. After quickly taking a piss, I rushed into my room, picked up my pants off the floor, shuffled into them and grabbed my shirt off a hanger in my closet (mom hangs them every afternoon while I play video games). As I pushed my head in and awkwardly tried to get my arms through I had my shirt on and walked into the kitchen. My mom was making breakfast and cheerily said:

“Hi sweetheart, would you like pancakes?”


I love pancakes, but why Wednesday? Usually my mom made pancakes on Fridays or Sundays, maybe to celebrate the end of a week or ease the pain of going into the next. Life in the Gramer’s household was nice, we never skipped a meal and everything was made for us. My brothers and sisters often left for school before me and were rarely there when I woke up and what do you know? They were not here. Even though I was the only sibling without a car and the bus stopped nearly a mile and a half away, I always managed to get to school on time.

            I sat down for breakfast and began eating, my mom left the room to get ready for work and my dad was absent; probably out at bar in a drunken stupor I thought. I never had a great relationship with my dad, but he was never there for either one of us to even make that connection so I did not feel guilty. We often argued whenever we did talk and he was the only negative thing about this family. My mom, sis and my brother were all really great and caused me very little trouble. I finished my pancakes, threw my plate in the sink, swung my backpack over my shoulder and gracefully passed through the front door.


Walking through the front entrance of my school was always awkward, the really “cool” kids sat there smoking god-knows what and the girl I liked did not care that I even existed. My school had nearly 1,500 students, yet none of them liked me, I was always the unusual character in school. People never gave much notice to me unless I did something dumb like drop my books or trip. Anytime those kind of things happened I got laughed at and was the new “retard” in school for the remainder of the week, no matter how hard I tried, things happened to me that just made situations worse. If I could be home-schooled or go to a massively smaller school, I would be so happy. Unfortunately, previous fights I was engaged in have had me kicked out of five schools. In fact, if I am kicked out of this one, I will have to move to Alabama or something. Even then, they may hold me back three grade levels to freshman year. Life sucks and every one of these jerks make it even harder.

            School was almost over, seventh period had no more than two minutes left, I was excited.

“Drew!” I heard ring in one ear.

“Yes?” I responded looking around to narrow the voice in on Mr. Calden, my teacher.

“You’re going into detention!” Mr. Calden exclaimed.

I was stunned, just another awful thing I had to endure. The class laughed and I looked up once again to see the principal finish his conversation with MR. Calden and walk out. I figured the principal had caught me spray-painting the east wall of the school last night with security cameras or something. I could not seem to hold myself back from breaking rules and unfortunately, I was caught this time. The school had a huge security system that even had face detection and could alert teachers of a student’s whereabouts. It really sucked. I hated it. I felt violated. Even-though spray painting the side of the school was bad I really liked doing it and could not seem to move away from the behavior.

            I sat there in Mr. Calden’s room, alone and tired. Usually my helicopter mom would come and save me but I could not blame her if she was having some whiskey to ease the pain of her son destroying school property for the fifth time. I suppose there must be an inside joke that I like to do five of everything, someone must be waiting to count jail appearances. I really did not have a promising future, the school even created a ‘G’ grade for me. The bell rang

The End

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