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Description
Voiceless: It's the quiet ones you've gotta watch our for.

The seeds of my life, the memories of pain. It has made me stone cold. The blood, cuts, scars, are only an aftermath effect. My twisting, beating, pulsing mind; my hot, boiling blood. All of it sidelines to what used to be, what will be, what is --

me.

My pain is remembrance. The yelling, cursing, fighting, feuding family of doubts. The bad, sinful, unforgiving touch of another. The screams of my conscious self, the muffled cry of my throat. Sickening and delightful.

My sin is not with a razor. It is not the marks of idle release; but instead the tears in her eyes, on her cheeks. My fault, my sin. My wants, my needs; his thoughts, his screams. The cloud of disappointment that hovers above her. Of me, of her mistake. My sin is the lack of achievement, my difference that I wish was creativity of an individual. My sin is myself.

My curse is the shallowness of it all. The smile that keeps falling off. The stability that keeps failing. The selfish cry of desperation.

My problem is my own agony. The need to shut people out and forever lock them up. The way I cling to who I get close to, only to be pushed harshly away. My want for attention, my want for someone to finally listen, to finally understand.

My cure, my medication, my anti-depressant, my ecstasy, is the edge of a blade, is the tip of a pencil, is the feeling of purity, simplicity. My white area, where things are great and I’m on top of the world… hasn’t been acknowledged in a while.

I am not depressed. I am not sad. I am not happy. I am not upset. I am not angry. I am not emotionless. I am not insane. I am –

me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I held my wrist up to examine my watch for the fiftieth time in the last forty-five minutes. Two minutes left of lunch. I took a quick glance up at the people who were now filling the commons area, then went back to my latest novel obsession, Desperation.

I soon got lost in the book. The world around me was tuned out and all of my senses went almost blank. I spaced out, reading. It was a feeling that I loved, getting lost in a book and my own world. Where no one would bother me, and even if they did, I couldn’t hear.

The bell rang. It was faint and distant, but instincts took over and I closed my book. I stood up from my spot on the floor and went with the horde of people to crowd up the stairs. It didn’t take too long to get to my biology classroom. I sat at the back table by the window. There were a few people already in their seats on the other side of the room.

Soon, the rest of the class swarmed in before the bell rang. A blond sat in the chair next to me. He never really spoke to me; I guess he was just way too cool for this class. I had known him since second grade where he started his “bad boy” name is Seifer, and he was an A-class asshole. He only sat beside me because the teacher refused to allow him and Fuu to sit together. Also because he referred to me as the ‘smart’ one who did all the daily assignments. Honestly, I didn’t how he got into an AP class.

“Be quiet,” the teacher, Vexen Nozawa, ordered. The door slammed and he walked swiftly to his desk at the front of the room. Everyone shut up, listening as he began explaining our end of course projects. The one that counted for five test grades or something along those lines. Unfortunately, we had to work in partners, which he would pick. Each group would cover one assigned criteria. Ah, the joys of high school.

“I did this very simply, based on role. The first with the last, et cetera,” Vexen said. I listened for my name as everyone looked around for people they didn’t want to be with. “Group A: Larxene and Jeanne; group B: Axel and Kevin; group C: Fuu and Mitch; group D: Zexion and Demyx--”

I looked over to my partner as soon as Vexen named him. He sat in the middle row, third table. It didn’t seem like he heard anything Nozawa said. Although I can’t say I was happy or upset about having to work with him. I had never even met him. I knew his name was Demyx Suzumara and he had blond hair. I think he played in the band.

As the teacher finished calling out the groups, everyone stood and went to get with their partners. Demyx walked over to me, so I didn’t have to move. I stayed seated and watched him make his way over to sit by me in Seifer’s place. When his eyes fell on me, I saw a small smile cross his lips. He sat down and dropped his bag on the floor. I avoided his gaze and flipped through my textbook.

“Okay, now that everyone’s seated, I’ll give you the criteria. Group A: 1a; group B: 1b; group C: 2; group D: 3--”

Cell structure. Easy.

“Okay, so… Cell stuff. Great. So, um… how ‘bout we start by looking at the basics of it and all,” Demyx said in one breath. I glanced at him and nodded slowly. Sure. Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.

I took out a pencil and a piece of paper to begin to write notes over everything I thought was of importance. Demyx was quick to follow these steps. So far, he wasn’t bad.

When the bell rang, Demyx declared we meet tomorrow at the public library at eleven so we could work on it. He would bring a flash drive and his laptop so we could keep up with things. I agreed and headed off to P.E. Before I got fully out the door, I heard him call back lightly, “Bye Zexion!”

Fourth block – the worst of all. Stretches, warm-ups exercises, run a mile, then play basketball or tennis or some other sport. Today was basketball in groups. I sat out a lot. The group that had decided to play with me was weird. Three geeks and Saix. Saix and I stood around a lot and talked about Demyx. Saix knew him because he was his girlfriend’s cousin. He told me that Demyx was an okay kid. He had high hopes and was highly energized most of the time. “Great,” I said, “Just what I need.”

Saix laughed. “Good luck.”

When Saix’s watch beeped three, we got up to go to the locker room. I didn’t bother to dress back out of my old black pants that apparently didn’t apply as jeans. Yay for me. Dressing out is the only way I’m passing gym.

I rushed as usual to my bus. It was first to leave. And I was lucky enough to have to run every day to catch it. Which really sucked because it felt then like I actually wanted to get on the bus and get home quicker. And it was quite to opposite.

I sat in the back seat, that was really supposed to be saved for someone else, but I ignored the protests of the two in front of me. They got so infuriated that they moved to the front of the bus.

Thirty minutes of the bus ride, and we finally stopped at my stop. I stood up and shuffled off the loud vehicle. Three others got off with me. Unlike me, they had rides home. I shifted my bag and walked briskly down Gabson Street to begin my fifteen to twenty minute walk home. At the end of the road, I took a right, to Premiere Lane, walked a little more ways, and then turned onto Forester Street. The neighborhood was all run down. Only patches of grass in lawns, with dirt showing everywhere else. The paved road was cracked and old. Each driveway was either dirt or old gravel.

In the Stevens’ place, yelling could be heard, of course. The Denver’s house always had at least three small children outside, playing or fighting. And my house was terrible as well. It was usually quiet, which only made I worse. I silently wished that I could still hear my parents arguing and my brother was outside, waiting for me to get home from school.

I shook my head, dragging my feet to the front door. I opened the door and went inside my own personal Hell.

Description
Voiceless: It's the quiet ones you've gotta watch our for.

The seeds of my life, the memories of pain. It has made me stone cold. The blood, cuts, scars, are only an aftermath effect. My twisting, beating, pulsing mind; my hot, boiling blood. All of it sidelines to what used to be, what will be, what is --

me.

My pain is remembrance. The yelling, cursing, fighting, feuding family of doubts. The bad, sinful, unforgiving touch of another. The screams of my conscious self, the muffled cry of my throat. Sickening and delightful.

My sin is not with a razor. It is not the marks of idle release; but instead the tears in her eyes, on her cheeks. My fault, my sin. My wants, my needs; his thoughts, his screams. The cloud of disappointment that hovers above her. Of me, of her mistake. My sin is the lack of achievement, my difference that I wish was creativity of an individual. My sin is myself.

My curse is the shallowness of it all. The smile that keeps falling off. The stability that keeps failing. The selfish cry of desperation.

My problem is my own agony. The need to shut people out and forever lock them up. The way I cling to who I get close to, only to be pushed harshly away. My want for attention, my want for someone to finally listen, to finally understand.

My cure, my medication, my anti-depressant, my ecstasy, is the edge of a blade, is the tip of a pencil, is the feeling of purity, simplicity. My white area, where things are great and I’m on top of the world… hasn’t been acknowledged in a while.

I am not depressed. I am not sad. I am not happy. I am not upset. I am not angry. I am not emotionless. I am not insane. I am –

me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I held my wrist up to examine my watch for the fiftieth time in the last forty-five minutes. Two minutes left of lunch. I took a quick glance up at the people who were now filling the commons area, then went back to my latest novel obsession, Desperation.

I soon got lost in the book. The world around me was tuned out and all of my senses went almost blank. I spaced out, reading. It was a feeling that I loved, getting lost in a book and my own world. Where no one would bother me, and even if they did, I couldn’t hear.

The bell rang. It was faint and distant, but instincts took over and I closed my book. I stood up from my spot on the floor and went with the horde of people to crowd up the stairs. It didn’t take too long to get to my biology classroom. I sat at the back table by the window. There were a few people already in their seats on the other side of the room.

Soon, the rest of the class swarmed in before the bell rang. A blond sat in the chair next to me. He never really spoke to me; I guess he was just way too cool for this class. I had known him since second grade where he started his “bad boy” name is Seifer, and he was an A-class asshole. He only sat beside me because the teacher refused to allow him and Fuu to sit together. Also because he referred to me as the ‘smart’ one who did all the daily assignments. Honestly, I didn’t how he got into an AP class.

“Be quiet,” the teacher, Vexen Nozawa, ordered. The door slammed and he walked swiftly to his desk at the front of the room. Everyone shut up, listening as he began explaining our end of course projects. The one that counted for five test grades or something along those lines. Unfortunately, we had to work in partners, which he would pick. Each group would cover one assigned criteria. Ah, the joys of high school.

“I did this very simply, based on role. The first with the last, et cetera,” Vexen said. I listened for my name as everyone looked around for people they didn’t want to be with. “Group A: Larxene and Jeanne; group B: Axel and Kevin; group C: Fuu and Mitch; group D: Zexion and Demyx--”

I looked over to my partner as soon as Vexen named him. He sat in the middle row, third table. It didn’t seem like he heard anything Nozawa said. Although I can’t say I was happy or upset about having to work with him. I had never even met him. I knew his name was Demyx Suzumara and he had blond hair. I think he played in the band.

As the teacher finished calling out the groups, everyone stood and went to get with their partners. Demyx walked over to me, so I didn’t have to move. I stayed seated and watched him make his way over to sit by me in Seifer’s place. When his eyes fell on me, I saw a small smile cross his lips. He sat down and dropped his bag on the floor. I avoided his gaze and flipped through my textbook.

“Okay, now that everyone’s seated, I’ll give you the criteria. Group A: 1a; group B: 1b; group C: 2; group D: 3--”

Cell structure. Easy.

“Okay, so… Cell stuff. Great. So, um… how ‘bout we start by looking at the basics of it and all,” Demyx said in one breath. I glanced at him and nodded slowly. Sure. Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.

I took out a pencil and a piece of paper to begin to write notes over everything I thought was of importance. Demyx was quick to follow these steps. So far, he wasn’t bad.

When the bell rang, Demyx declared we meet tomorrow at the public library at eleven so we could work on it. He would bring a flash drive and his laptop so we could keep up with things. I agreed and headed off to P.E. Before I got fully out the door, I heard him call back lightly, “Bye Zexion!”

Fourth block – the worst of all. Stretches, warm-ups exercises, run a mile, then play basketball or tennis or some other sport. Today was basketball in groups. I sat out a lot. The group that had decided to play with me was weird. Three geeks and Saix. Saix and I stood around a lot and talked about Demyx. Saix knew him because he was his girlfriend’s cousin. He told me that Demyx was an okay kid. He had high hopes and was highly energized most of the time. “Great,” I said, “Just what I need.”

Saix laughed. “Good luck.”

When Saix’s watch beeped three, we got up to go to the locker room. I didn’t bother to dress back out of my old black pants that apparently didn’t apply as jeans. Yay for me. Dressing out is the only way I’m passing gym.

I rushed as usual to my bus. It was first to leave. And I was lucky enough to have to run every day to catch it. Which really sucked because it felt then like I actually wanted to get on the bus and get home quicker. And it was quite to opposite.

I sat in the back seat, that was really supposed to be saved for someone else, but I ignored the protests of the two in front of me. They got so infuriated that they moved to the front of the bus.

Thirty minutes of the bus ride, and we finally stopped at my stop. I stood up and shuffled off the loud vehicle. Three others got off with me. Unlike me, they had rides home. I shifted my bag and walked briskly down Gabson Street to begin my fifteen to twenty minute walk home. At the end of the road, I took a right, to Premiere Lane, walked a little more ways, and then turned onto Forester Street. The neighborhood was all run down. Only patches of grass in lawns, with dirt showing everywhere else. The paved road was cracked and old. Each driveway was either dirt or old gravel.

In the Stevens’ place, yelling could be heard, of course. The Denver’s house always had at least three small children outside, playing or fighting. And my house was terrible as well. It was usually quiet, which only made I worse. I silently wished that I could still hear my parents arguing and my brother was outside, waiting for me to get home from school.

I shook my head, dragging my feet to the front door. I opened the door and went inside my own personal Hell.