Anywhere But Here

It's as if the whole world ceases to exist before my eyes. At once, I feel terribly alone although there are hundreds of people around me, surrounding me-almost in a suffocating sort of way.

My stomach ties itself into knots-I can feel the acid burning inside of me. I feel sick. I want to throw up, but it'd prove most inconvenient if I were to throw up in a classroom.

What happened last night? Did I cry? I realize that whenever I cry and go right to sleep, I don't remember that I have cried. It's almost as if that memory is too painful to remember. I don't remember a lot of things. I don't remember funerals. I don't remember hospitals. They're all repressed. It only comes back again when I think too hard. Am I thinking too hard right now?

How can everyone concentrate? The noisy page turning...the scratching of pencils bother me to no end.

Europe's relatively peaceful development of robust offshoots in sparsely populated North America. . . I notice that I sink into my seat as I read, or I lean forward a bit too much when I write. My face is just inches awy from the desktop. I just want to lay my head down and sleep. Forever, perhaps.

I didn't eat breakfast. I woke up too late for that. I've been waking up too late for weeks.

I wanted to skip school today, but my brave little conscience stepped forward. "No! No! No! You can't!" it reprimands.

Now I wish I did.