My star (cont.)

She’s staring at me. Her ruler slaps her hand happily. I never heard the question, but I don’t have the motivation to ask what it was.

I look at the worksheet in front of me. The teacher is still watching me. I think I am supposed to have this filled out by now. My pencil is in my pocket. I could get it out. I don’t see the point of it, though.

I sit frozen in my seat until she gives up on me and moves onto another student, one who is surely smarter than I am. She calls on a popular, brilliant girl named Mary. Mary loves to answer every question. An A on something can make her whole day. Mary has something I don’t: motivation. She also has a reason to keep living.

A sudden idea strikes me. I’ll never get rid of this feeling. I’m sure of that. There are too many things weighing down on me now. There is only one way out of this endless spiral of sadness and self-hatred that I seem to be stuck in. I make a mental note to myself to find something long and sharp.

 

Two days later, I’m standing in the girl’s bathroom during first period. No one is allowed to go to the bathroom during first period at this time. The teachers tell whoever bothers to ask that they should

The End

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