Reading to the Class

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A deep insight into the mind of a outcast.

Submitted: April 19, 2007

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Submitted: April 19, 2007

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Nervously she stood before her class, clutching the paper so tightly between her fingers at any moment it might crumble into dust. The essay she had been forced to write, due to her teacher's whim of her students exploring their deepest inner thoughts, had drawn a flurry of pubescent idiocies. No teenager wished to expose publicly what they really felt, if they actually knew what they really felt.

The essays read so far were nowhere near what the teacher had hoped for, being no more than a smattering of juvenile rambling of the need for a boyfriend or a new CD player or how their parents were so mean because they wouldn't allow them the freedom to run at free abandon.

Now it was her turn. The usual jibes and catcalls as to her appearance and low standing in the general pecking order of class hierarchy were hushed by the teacher as she walked to the front of the class. She began, only to be jeered and laughed at until her teacher threatened the entire class with detention, she was asked to begin again.

Clearing her throat she read.

"Do you ever feel like you are nothing but a blot on the face of society? Someone who is nothing more than an annoyance to others on the path of their lives? No more than a dull noise in the vicinity of cheerful chatter of friends? That irksome person to whom people respond to as politeness dictates, not because they feel the need to speak with."

"Are you the one person who would have been better off never taking a breath? Or your mother never having made that decision to allow you to be born, rather than ruining her life? Being forced to acknowledge her mistake as your own, to carry the burden of what could have been in her life."

"I have faced all theses questions and with clarity realise I am that person. I know people hide when I appear. They pretend they are too busy to converse or acknowledge my presence. Unless I fit into their agendas I am merely an irritation. My existence is all but discounted unless I can offer something they can exploit, and then only until I am no longer needed."

"In return, in pretence, I have no care for their dismissal but deep down inside the rejection is pushed into that special place, hidden from all view beneath a mask of indifference."

"Over time I can no longer distinguish those who genuinely seek my company or rather wring the life out of my affections then abandon me as an empty shell washed up onto a beach, fragile and easily crushed, yet ignored like so many of the other shells."

"Some people collect such fragile items but keep them tucked away where they are left mostly untouched, only to be viewed at intermittent times. Many people regard certain friends in this manner. I am usually one of those placed on the shelf, waiting desperately for that infrequent attention. In my fragile state, should I fall and shatter there might be the moment of regret, perhaps sadness but it would be fleeting and soon forgotten."

"The length of time it has taken for me to read this, I am assured it is finitely longer than the time extended for grieving my loss."

A stunned silence fell over the class but by the time she had reached her seat, the remarks and catcalls covered the poignancy of her words.

Her teacher though made a mental note of sending a message of concern home to her parents but by the end of the day through sheer busyness, she had all but forgotten.

The next dayher seat wasempty.


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