Post by Kazek Siewicz on Jun 29, 2013 14:51:41 GMT -8
I'm going to throw up.
Oreo tation is starting in 10 minutes and I'm 15 minutes away. Five minutes late is unacceptable, I'm not quite sure what an oreo tation is, or how my new teachers will react to me being five minutes late, but I assume they will probably be angry with me, so angry. Like a newborn deer, I will have to creep quietly into the classroom in front of everyone, cutting the teacher off mid-sentence. My legs will wobble and my hands will shake. My ribcage tightened, and I squeezed the steering wheel, I can't do that. All of my new classmates will stare at me because I'll have to find a seat, I'll frantically be searching the room for an open one, and the only one that will be open will probably be in the middle. That's the five minute late seat.
The floor will creak as I walk towards it, everyone will be whispering and staring and laughing and hating. The teacher will have her hands folded in front of her, looking disapprovingly as I murmur, "excuse me, sorry, excuse me,"
When I finally find my seat, she'll spend another thirty seven seconds staring at me, this is what teachers do to make sure that you understand they're upset with you. It will work, too, because I'll squirm and fidget under her stare like an ant under a magnifying glass. She'll remove her reading glasses slowly and dramatically, and ask me if i know how important oreo tation is. My toes will curl, my chest will hurt and like the sheep that I am, I'll reply "No ...I'm sorry... I don't really know... what an oreo tation is,"
She'll breath fire and slap me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and focused on driving instead, numbly I watched as the white stripes whipped past me. Something about driving is calming, and puts me in a trance like state. I like knowing that if I had to, I could go anywhere I wanted, and become anyone I wanted. That's what I'd like to do, drive, forever, I'd never have a home and I think that would be easier for me. I would be able to see new places, and never get sad about leaving them. Before I became a sheep, I understood people, and I knew how to make friends and find my place. I've forgotten how to do this though, and because of that I am now better suited to be alone. It doesn't bother me though, being with only my own thoughts. I used to find a great deal of loneliness in it, but now I find it comforting.
"Hey, fuck you buddy!"
I startled, an electric shock rushed through my body and the hair on my neck and arms stood up. The man driving behind me is frustrated. He looks like a grizzly bear, and he has angry music blaring. His girlfriend is in the passenger seat with her chin in her palm and her other hand toying with her cigarette. She has a pink frilly shirt and pink painted fingernails, blonde hair and angry eyes. She's irritated as well.
"No, thank you."
I'm not quite sure what he's angry about, but he threw me the finger and eyed me through the rearview mirror for the majority of my ride to the oreo tation. His calloused hands squeezed and tore at the steering wheel, as he complained and growled to his girlfriend. She joined him. I tried my best not to look into the mirror because I felt a burning in my stomach each time my eyes met his. After merging onto a highway, and passing a 45 mph speed limit sign, I sped up,
to 35 mph.
Our one lane turned into two and the grizzly bear took the opportunity to fly past the left side of my car, threw me the finger and cussed at me one more time. A long line of cars followed behind him and one by one the driver of each car gave me the finger after they realized I was not elderly. I bit my lip and sunk into my seat, I really do like to drive,
but I'm not very good at it.
Oreo tation is starting in 10 minutes and I'm 15 minutes away. Five minutes late is unacceptable, I'm not quite sure what an oreo tation is, or how my new teachers will react to me being five minutes late, but I assume they will probably be angry with me, so angry. Like a newborn deer, I will have to creep quietly into the classroom in front of everyone, cutting the teacher off mid-sentence. My legs will wobble and my hands will shake. My ribcage tightened, and I squeezed the steering wheel, I can't do that. All of my new classmates will stare at me because I'll have to find a seat, I'll frantically be searching the room for an open one, and the only one that will be open will probably be in the middle. That's the five minute late seat.
The floor will creak as I walk towards it, everyone will be whispering and staring and laughing and hating. The teacher will have her hands folded in front of her, looking disapprovingly as I murmur, "excuse me, sorry, excuse me,"
When I finally find my seat, she'll spend another thirty seven seconds staring at me, this is what teachers do to make sure that you understand they're upset with you. It will work, too, because I'll squirm and fidget under her stare like an ant under a magnifying glass. She'll remove her reading glasses slowly and dramatically, and ask me if i know how important oreo tation is. My toes will curl, my chest will hurt and like the sheep that I am, I'll reply "No ...I'm sorry... I don't really know... what an oreo tation is,"
She'll breath fire and slap me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and focused on driving instead, numbly I watched as the white stripes whipped past me. Something about driving is calming, and puts me in a trance like state. I like knowing that if I had to, I could go anywhere I wanted, and become anyone I wanted. That's what I'd like to do, drive, forever, I'd never have a home and I think that would be easier for me. I would be able to see new places, and never get sad about leaving them. Before I became a sheep, I understood people, and I knew how to make friends and find my place. I've forgotten how to do this though, and because of that I am now better suited to be alone. It doesn't bother me though, being with only my own thoughts. I used to find a great deal of loneliness in it, but now I find it comforting.
"Hey, fuck you buddy!"
I startled, an electric shock rushed through my body and the hair on my neck and arms stood up. The man driving behind me is frustrated. He looks like a grizzly bear, and he has angry music blaring. His girlfriend is in the passenger seat with her chin in her palm and her other hand toying with her cigarette. She has a pink frilly shirt and pink painted fingernails, blonde hair and angry eyes. She's irritated as well.
"No, thank you."
I'm not quite sure what he's angry about, but he threw me the finger and eyed me through the rearview mirror for the majority of my ride to the oreo tation. His calloused hands squeezed and tore at the steering wheel, as he complained and growled to his girlfriend. She joined him. I tried my best not to look into the mirror because I felt a burning in my stomach each time my eyes met his. After merging onto a highway, and passing a 45 mph speed limit sign, I sped up,
to 35 mph.
Our one lane turned into two and the grizzly bear took the opportunity to fly past the left side of my car, threw me the finger and cussed at me one more time. A long line of cars followed behind him and one by one the driver of each car gave me the finger after they realized I was not elderly. I bit my lip and sunk into my seat, I really do like to drive,
but I'm not very good at it.
