Class Introduction
So there I was, sitting in silence. Silently staring out of the window, counting the days until I could get away.
In this mediocre world, everybody wants to make it.
They want to be remembered for centuries. But their minds, they rot like vintage cassettes. They rot like dump in a wasteland. In this mediocre world, only winners pave their way to the hall of fame.
No, but the losers do not. They just live and die in exasperation and hopes of the next time, but their bodies rot.
I’ll keep my head up high and my hopes down low. Build a city over this teenage wasteland, labelled ‘Mediocre’. Then I will set it on fire. Pour in the gasoline obtained from broken dreams.
And it will burn.
Mediocre. Mediocre is a mediocre word. I need better phrases to waste away. Is it indifference or just insolence? Maybe I’m made of both, but I don’t mind.
I don’t want to win, or lose. I just don’t want to be mediocre.
And no one will ever understand. I’m used to that by now. My best friend is silence.
Silence is comforting. It is.
So there I was, sitting in silence. Sitting in silence, existing in my own little sphere of existence. It was raining, but slightly. Slightly, but the rain brings out the somewhat solemn beauty of the skies.
And then she walked in.
The wind harnessed the little energy it had left and with one last gush, it gave in. Her hazel hair flowed seamlessly, and she tilted her head, slightly, brushing her hair behind her delicate ears. I glanced upon her deep brown eyes, so inviting that I wish I could stare deeper into her through her pupils, down the sockets, and into her bones of diamond. Her body structure screamed perfection, and I wanted to embrace her. She came closer, and all I could do is stare.
“Who’re you talking to? That’s extremely creepy, dude,” an angel spoke. I looked at her, with a gleam in my otherwise very dead eyes.
“I love you,” I calmly proclaimed, and she seemed taken aback.
“…um, I’m not taken aback. I just think it’s weird that you would confess your love for me right on the first day of the school year.”
“I’m in awe, too, darling. I’m in awe of my unseemly adoration for someone as beautiful as you are,” I said, trying to sound as charming as I possibly can.
“No, that’s still creepy. And seriously, who are you talking to? Are you one of those freaks who talk to themselves through dramatic monologue because they have no friends?”
“Ouch,” I said, clenching my heart, “You hurt me so deeply.”
“You’re so lame.” She smiled and softly laughed. I melted inside. “Mind if I take the seat next to yours?” I frantically shook my head from left to right. “Of course not, I’d love that!” I said, drooling with the thought of all the potential scenes that would take place in this very classroom, starring yours truly and the angel sitting next to me.
The bell rang.
“Greetings, everybody. I’m your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Apaché. Let’s have a good year together.” She told us to introduce ourselves. The person sitting on the rightest seat in the front row started.
“Hi everyone! I’m Drew Marrygore, and I like ponies and unicorns and everything pink.” Uh, okay…
“I’m Brittany Chloe Heather, your typical white girl. I’m looking for a jock to make out with during prom.” Um, I guess she said something different, but I swear that’s what I heard. After all, what else do you expect from a blonde cheerleader with horrible grades and no brains whatsoever. I’m not one for endorsing stereotypes, but they really do have actual basis for being formed in the first place.
“Saul Moodgan, aspiring con artist.” Good for you, Saul. Great going there.
The introductions carried on, but I tuned out at some point because my hatred for most of mankind declared that it was not necessary for me to listen to these unintelligent beings speak. The teacher stared at me, and then so did everyone sitting in front of me, turning their heads back. It was my turn to introduce myself. No point in falsifying who I am or what I want, I said to myself, plus, first impressions are highly important.
“Banke Buntre; I yearn to build my own harem.”
