posted on December 04, 2002 @ 10:13 pm
"blank page," smashing pumpkins
once in the seventh grade, there was a memorial service held for someone. i didn't know them; i don't even remember their name. a girl i never liked but had to be nice to because she was my best friend's friend, lori wright, she made a joke about them. she laughed heartily. i exploded. i yelled at her and told her she had no right to laugh at someone who had died. we were rounding the corner of the main building.
i hurried back to class alone. i was one of only a few in the class who chose to go. i felt obligated because i knew not many people would go because they didn't care. for the last few minutes left before the end of the day, i sat staring at my desktop. i held tightly onto tears wanting to trickle out. scream out. when the bell rang, i was the very last in the room. mr. allen came and sat in the desk in front of me and asked what was wrong. he was the best teacher i ever had, and that is definitely no hyperbole. i won't apply that to any other teacher, except mrs. williams. so he was the best male teacher i had.
when something's wrong and someone asks what's wrong, that's when i break. i can ignore it up to that point. i was strong, though, for him, because i didn't want him to worry. i tried to leave, knowing the bus would abandon me in 10 minutes. he told me to stay, that he'd take me home if i missed it. i protested further, but he pleaded with me that i tell him why i was so upset. so i started crying, so hard, telling him about lori and how no one has any respect for anything sacred. i couldn't breathe or talk after only a few moments, but he calmed me. i made myself stop, apologized for the scene, and ran to the bus as it pulled away.
my eyes were still very swollen, and the people on the bus noticed. i sat alone, but charlie summers came and sat next to me. he and kirk bozeman (i think i misspelled that) made jokes until they had to get off, going to ridiculous extremes to make me laugh. by the time i got to my apartment on bill owens parkway, in the very back of the oak hollow complex, above the strict christian family with two toddlers, i was okay.
that's why i have difficulties reading the perks of being a wallflower. every page awakens something deep within me i thought i had blocked.
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