“Ugly, Freak, Weirdo, Spastic, Retard” Well these are just some of the words I get called when I am in school, sorry for the language, but I just wanted to put it out there what REALLY happens in class/in hallways. So yeah, I have no friends, I did have a couple but they were just sell outs and weren’t showing their true colours. Maths, English and science just abuse my brain, I am no good at them. But in art I can show what I can do, I have been pulling out 6.4s and 5As lately. Usually the teacher thinks that I am not concentrating but the thing is without my nose, the balance is all wrong in my face. My skin is usually hanging from my face so it looks like I’m not interested. So that whole idea of being a “Good student” just gets thrown out of the window. So back to the story. I’m stuck, I need someone, I don’t know where to go. So I decided to go to an art club. After I finish the dreaded math class. I make my way into the classroom. I am surprised to see a variety of people, from small boys to humongous girls. Obviously every one gives me me the stare because of the whole nose thing. I grab a chair and sit down, ignoring all the stares that were wondering why I was here. So after the introduction, Miss Molly gave us a task, she told us to tell our story in one picture, so off I went. At first I was really stuck, I didn’t know where to start and were to finish. So instead of showing the story with lots of people in it, I decided to show the significant things/objects in my life. So I started with a heart, to represent my lovely but dead parents, then I showed the wardrobe crushing the heart to show them dying. My hand was trembling the whole time during this moment, so I stopped myself and told myself to calm down. So after that silent panic attack I drew the samurai sword which practically started the cruel fate that was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I carried on for another ten minutes completely in my own world, completely trapped in a trance which I cannot describe, until the bell went. I sighed, got up and gathered all my art pencil and shoved them into my pencil case. I grabbed my bag and made my way home.
I open the rusty door, to see my stepparents on the floor. “Drunk” I sighed. I picked up the empty vodka bottles off the floor. The stifling stench of alcohol eventually overcomes me and I run out the room my eyes stinging. I have to do these kinds of things, otherwise my parents will whip me. So I just to what they say, the punishment I can have is horrible but the punishment I have to do anyway is horrible too. I eventually come back in and clean the room up. After about half an hour, I heard the loud grunt of my stepmother, I knew what that meant. HANGOVER. This loud grunt means to stay away from my mum and dad, don’t annoy them, and do what they say.