Here Lies The Waste

Two weeks before

* * * *

`My name is William Roy Francis.
Will for short.
I live in Seattle, Washington.
I go to a fucking shitty school, but I won’t be here for long since im seventeen.
And then I’ll be free to do what the fuck I want.`

Man, I honestly have been thinking about this stupid paper over and over again in the past twenty minutes or so. Every second felt like a lifetime - Even the sound that the clock was making seemed like an exaggeration.
I was running out of time to write this god damn thing.
But nothing would come to mind at all.
English is one of my stronger subjects - Normally I have a thriving imagination so I find things easier to write than say them out loud.

But when it came to writing a paper about myself,
Nothing ever comes to mind.
I’m tempted to write failure all across my sheet of A4.
But then I’d look like a prick putting up my hand and asking for a clean sheet.
People will think I’ve written two sides already then stare at me as if im nothing but shit.
I hate having curious eyes surround my very existence.
Especially by these stuck up assholes.

There was only one person in this room that I actually cared about.
And she was sat on my left.
Her name was Rachel and we had been sitting next to each other every English class since I can remember.
I looked at her from the corner of my left eye - she was writing away.
Any moment now her pen would be smoking from the speed her hand was gracefully gliding across her piece of paper.

Every so often she’d look up at our English teacher, Mrs Blake to see if she was distracted before scribbling something down in a book that rested on her lap.
Her actions made me curious - I wanted to know what she was writing about, she sure as hell wasn’t stuck up like these lot.

The girl at the front, her name is Teresa or something ketchup-like. Tamara maybe.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she wrote about how her parents are saving up to buy her a fucking horse the size of a mansion or spoil her with dogs that look like wet rats which are then called something after a Disney character.
Tinkerbelle or Cinderella.

Shit like that aint interesting.
Just stupid.

But at least it was something - This pen in my hand was yelling at me to write something.
To put ink to paper - but my imagination wasn’t switched on.
The distraction button was instead.

I carried on looking out of the corner of my eye - Rachel was still writing away, her sapphire like eyes fixated on the movement of her pen.
How could she do it? Write about herself this much? Maybe there was a lot she wanted to get off of her chest or maybe she was writing complete bullshit just so she could do what Mrs Blake had set.

Then again, I could make stuff up too.
It’s not like she’s gonna turn up at my door while im in my underwear and check my room and shout at me because I specifically stated that I sleep naked rather than with clothes on.
Hell no.
She doesn’t know anything about me. And no one really will do.

By the time I had thought of something to write the bell had gone.

“I want this paper in for Thursday, I don’t want any excuses about your dog eating it or anything like that.” Said Mrs Blake, pushing her oversized framed glasses to the bridge of her nose - rising from out of her leather seat.

Well, that’s another deadline that I know I’m already fucked for.
I scrunched up my piece of paper and pushed it into the bottom of my canvas bag. Practically wiping everything off the desk with my arm into my bag.
I didn’t really care about it much.

Everyone started packing their own things and began to leave the room - it was lunch now.
Which meant I’d have to go and sit at the rejection table alongside absolutely no one.
Not even Rachel would sit with me - she had friends of her own.
People didn’t like me cause they classed me as a freak because I liked wearing black and shit.
Just cause I wear black makes me fucking weird?
Aint that like Racist but to clothes?

Ah fuck it.
Just thinking about it isn’t gonna affect their minds.
I threw my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the cafeteria to get my usual.
Pizza, coke and an apple.

That was before I heard helpless cries from out in the hallway.