How would I describe my school year? Crumpled papers, public lunches, and bruises. I am surprised that I have survived over twenty weeks already, with only one week left. After the torture, it will be summer. Summer means that I get to kick back and count the number of clouds that pass by in the sky. It's not like there is anything else better to do. The sky is usually cloudy, just like my mind. It's filled with conflicts on my mind about life, my life to be exact. Everyday, I am cursed with the thoughts of my life that could be like others, but stuck in this world I am forced to call "home".
As much as I despise "home", it was still better than school. All the classrooms are the same. Walls painted a plain, pale white. The teachers would all have different personalities. There were three types, in my perspective. There are those who are strict and only care about work, work, and more work. If I am lucky, I don't get to have one who cares about fun, fun, and more fun, such as the teacher in art class. They are almost always smiling, and it makes me want to just take the big bucket of paint and drown myself in it. Unfortunately, I had to have one of those this year, but at least there is only one more week of that demented prison. Finally, there are those who run the study hall and the library. They just want peace and quiet. What most students don't know, is that those teachers usually are playing on their phones, watching R rated movies, or some crap like that. I don't really care because peace and quiet is a luxury for me. I get to either sleep or think. Thinking is what I like to do in my spare time, when I'm not thinking about my terrible life.
Life at home is good, I guess. I have food (whatever is left in my broken refrigerator), water (the water trickling out of my kitchen sink's faucet), and a bed (a mattress on top of a stubby table with a feather pillow and very thin blankets). I don't really mind any of this much, but it does get pretty depressing at times. Mostly, it is always depressing. I realize suicide is probably not the answer (at times) because there may be more to life, but I just don't know when the time will come for my life to get better. All I care about, right now, is that there is only one week left of school, and tomorrow is Monday. I squatted down to get onto the mattress low to the ground. Although the blankets are thin, I don't really mind the cold breeze at night. It usually keeps my mind thinking about the cold instead about my depressing life. Yes, I admit it. My life is depressing! I screamed out to the sky, "Why!? Why me!? Please let me see the good in what the world has to offer!" In my moment of screaming, my mind became fuzzy. I probably passed out from the work used to scream that loud. Last thing I remember from that night, was about a tear running down my cheek and onto the mattress. Maybe things will get better eventually.
"Wake up you sleepy head!" I woke up with my eyes opening slowly, looking perplexed at the thought of my own mind talking to me to tell me to wake up. My vision was blurry for the first few seconds, but then it quickly cleared up. My eyes sprang open at the reaction of what my eyes were seeing at that moment. At first notice, I saw a few trees and the sun through one of the holes in the roof. In the center of the room, however, my eyes were focused on a pink figure starring at me. Following my instincts and reflexes, I quickly reached for a book I kept next to my mattress to read at night. Using the book, which was about 2 inches thick, I smacked the pinkish... "thing" on the head. It collapsed backwards to the floor. I was then staring at its eyes, which were swirling. By my basic knowledge, I would know that this thing isn't human. I knelt down to get a closer look at the figure.
I lifted one of its feet up, realizing it wasn't a foot at all. It actually looked like a... hoof? From also examining its tail, nose, and ears, I came to the conclusion that it was a pink... pony. My mind was filled with confusion at the sight of a pink pony laying passed out on the floor of my house. I really hope I didn't kill it. I may not be a huge fan of pink ponies, but I would never want to murder anything that hasn't harmed me first. After about ten minutes, the pony woke up. Feeling drowsy, she barely could stand up. Luckily, she fully recovered after about two minutes. It was amazing! It was like she was never hit by the book in the first place. I apologized to her in a semi-soft tone. She quickly smiled and said, "It's alright. I'm sure you didn't mean it." She quickly ran and jumped onto my mattress. The blankets went flying everywhere. She quickly asked a bunch of random questions like, "Hi! What is your name? Do you have any candy? I really like candy! What's your favorite of candy? Mine is sugary peppermint sweets of goodness. Hey, where are we? Why are you so tall? Why-." I put my hand over her mouth, but she carelessly licked it. "Mmmm! Tastes like sugar," she yelled out. At this point, I was kind of sad that she revived from the smack to the head by the book. For all this stress, I felt like just smacking myself with the book. I really hoped this was all a dream.