I despised school. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself like it even a little. I am kind’ve shy at my meager age of 14, and have one friend, whom has been at my side since the beginning, and who I sometimes feel only sticks by me because he felt obligated too after so many years of friendship. All I ever do is (that is, when I am not in the prison they call school) draw and read, and my love for them both causes me to succeed in my Language and Art classes, though those were the only classes I can manage to get an A in. In the others, I am lucky if I’m able to scrape by and get a B-, or even a C, no matter how hard I try.
Over the years, I have spent time pondering why I had sunk so low on the popularity ranks and managed to link it all to my lack of ability to play a sport to save my life. After the time I tried to try out for a Baseball team and somehow managed to get hit with the baseball and hit myself in the head with the Baseball bat in one go, I didn’t want to risk trying out for anything again. Before that fateful attempt at Baseball though, I had tried out for every sport I could think of, and failed miserably at each and every one of them. For example, when I was 9, I tried out for the Soccer team and the first time I tried to kick the ball, I missed entirely, fell backwards, and landed on my back with my feet in the air. It was humiliating.
Of course though it seems that my sermon for a peculiar and miserable life was written for me the day I was born, for behind my left ear, lies a birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon, and of course, the peculiarity just couldn’t stop there. Instead on the usual colors birthmarks tend to be, such as brown, blue, or red, the moon shape design was outlined in thick, vivid, black lines, almost as if someone had tattooed it on there. The doctors had never seen anything like it, and apparently neither had any of the doctors before them, for they had looked through file upon file for anything in another patient that was even remotely similar to my birthmark, and couldn’t find a single other case. They were astounded and told my parents so. It seemed though, that this news was too much for my father to handle because my father left the day after the doctors told them. My father leaving due to that still confuses me to this day, for I can never understand why my father would leave over something as inconsequential as a silly birthmark. Of course, I was only a baby at the time, I couldn’t remember it at all, but my mother told me the story once I was old enough.
To me, my mother is the kindest and most amazing person in the world. Through my sports mishaps, my love of art, and bookworm tendencies, she loves and supports me. She even sometimes takes the time after a long day of work to buy me art supplies or to pick me up a book she thought I would take interest in. She was the one person I never doubt, and the only person I trust completely. I love my mother.
At this point in time, as the school doesn’t care about my past mishaps with sports, I am in gym class being forced to play dodge ball. This sport was particularly gruesome in my opinion, for my lack of friend’s was not helpful in the slightest. All the blubbering morons that tended to surround me, absolutely loved to pick me specifically to hit with a dodge ball. Surely, the thoughts that are constantly running through their heads at this point have to be ‘I BIGGER ‘DAN ‘DIS KID, MUST HIT WIT’ DODGE BALL’, in a prehistoric caveman voice. Their incompetence still astounded me, and I had been forced to be around them for about 10 years of my life. How could one such as them harness such stupidity? The world may never know.
In my contemplating of their stupidity, it seemed that I had forgotten my own and that led to me getting a dodge ball slammed into my face. I sigh, and trek over to the impending line of the other people who had gotten out. I say people, but I should say the singular person, for the only other person out already within the first minute of the game was a boy who everyone called ‘Pig Nosed Pete’ because you could see straight up his nostrils just by looking at him. I felt bad for the boy, but didn’t want to risk having anything more happen to me than already happened in any attempt to help the guy out.
A few more people had joined us on the side lines by now, but not enough to really make much of a dent in the crowd of idiots. Ten minutes later though, the torturous game was over and the gym teacher did the usual end of class speech and then the bell rang causing me to practically skip from the classroom in glee.