The first day of standard 9! Whoopee....Not. The entire class was rambling on about something or another, except me. I sat in the back, alone, drawing swords. A boy, was sent shuffling by his friends to me. "Umm..can you move...I kind of want to sit here." I looked at the classroom. There was no one, not a soul I was even remotely familiar with. The wall was a friend, the corner a good acquaintance, and now he wanted to take away that much from me.
"No" I answered, barely looking at him.
"Would you rather sit next to a bunch of guys who will make sure you are forced to move?" He sniggered obnoxiously. I stared for a minute, “Goth" he muttered as I got up. Keeping my eyes to the floor, I walked towards the middle of the classroom. Not a chair I knew, no one, all these people, strangers. I needed anyone, someone, who accepted me, but there was only one. I was an embarrassment, I was weird, I was stupid, why would they like me? I was the God's greatest mistake...right? I walked in circles, looking for someone to guide me. I wanted to sit, before my knees buckled under the perpetual weight on my shoulders.
"Has everyone got a place?" Our new class teacher. He was a short, slightly round middle ager bachelor, with a funky mustache and spectacles.
"You can sit there, near Tia." He smiled as he directed me to my seat. I kept my firmly eyes on the floor, holding back the tears ready to burst out of me. I knew her vaguely, Tia. I also knew she thought me weird, as did half my class. The other half were trying to figure out where they'd seen me from. I kept my book down and began drawing red roses on the swords. I loved roses...they were like the blood that ran down my arm as I cut small scars into it. It was pretty. the patterns, the swirls, the color. So I drew them everywhere.
The teacher began his speech, "Welcome to 9M, this will be your class for the next two years of your lives, so I want it to be like a family, alright?" I couldn’t help but snigger, "Like that will happen." I thought.
"If anyone feels uncomfortable feel free to talk to me." He went around the class, just talking, about family, about his old class about the "adventure we were to face" and how we had to face it together. Then he stopped. I knew he was looking at me, I could feel it. "He's thinking of me as Anya's sister? Does he know already I’m an idiot, I bet he's heard... Have people told him I’m a dud? Good, then he won’t have to be all shocked..."But they weren’t the eyes of someone judgmental, they were the eyes of someone who cared, who wanted to help.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment. He looked at me, straight inside me, like he was looking into my soul, and asked, "Are you feeling alright, do you feel uncomfortable?" Strangely enough, never in their life had anyone asked that of me. Ever. Unlike everyone else who treated me like an invisible product, he looked at me as a person, and gave me something I was missing… an identity. I wasn’t a face in the crowd, I was an individual.
"Yes, sir, I’m fine." I muttered. I hoped he hadn’t heard my thoughts. . I was thinking of break time, how I was going to jump off the roof of the school, and let it all go.
But I didn’t...all because of a small, useless exercise that exited some strange abnormal light of hope.
I don’t remember it too well now, though I remember the implications. They were to look at the bright side of things, and look past the darkness, to find something good in anything. "Sometimes a child today, must learn optimism..." He said. Yeah, I’d like to learn how to be optimistic too...I want to be one of thoes girls who always smile" I thought, as I finally decided to lift my head out of my roses, and listened.