Best Excuse
Lack of a Better Word.
“…time this month, do you understand the repercussions of your careless and reckless…”
Did this guy even care? Does he really give a rat’s ass if I pass or fail? If I smoke or drink or try drugs, or is all of this the stupid bullshit of his position, this, this pretend to care garbage? I sat up a little straighter in the hard wooden chair I was seated in—I should at least attempt to look like I care what he’s saying.
“…king has serious health hazards but I’m sure you already know this, given you’re discussing it this we…”
I don’t care so why should he? It’s my body, my choices and I’m a teenager, it’s my job to fuck up, rebel a little. I’m supposed to be figuring out who I am and if I can’t make my own choices, then I’ll never figure that out.
At least this time he caught me with an actual cigarette, unlike last time. Last time, well actually I’m not sure how he didn’t realize I wasn’t smoking one of those last time. Besides, nicotine is the least harmless of what I’ve put into my body as of late. I could turn on the whole peer pressure bit like I did last time; he’s a sucker for that.
“…know you’re bright, perhaps one of the top in your class, you should…”
Then again, peer pressure is a huge dilemma I’m dealing with. I’ve been in the top ten percent of my class since elementary school. Always the straight-laced kid, honor roll, perfect attendance—forgive me if I want to take a break. I think I can afford it, let alone deserve one. The shit I face daily, it drives me crazy. Sometimes I wonder when adults tell me that they understand, I wonder if they really mean it.
Sometimes I think I’d like to just let a high last, take me away, maybe to Neverland or even Wonderland. It’d be nice to be somewhere I never had to grow up or somewhere nothing made sense. Other times, other times I think that it would be nice if the high were the last thing I ever experienced.
Yes that means what it implies. Like I said, this life I’ve got going on, there’s some serious shit I’ve got to deal with. Especially this whole who I am nonsense. I’m tall, meaning I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m smart, I can’t exactly turn it off so that’s another thing to peg me as different.
“…Miss Johnson speaks so highly of your potential, how far you will…”
Isn’t this what my guidance counselor is for? This whole achieve your greatest dreams, you can do it, you’re the best bullshit they’re supposed to tell us. It’s not like talking about the goings on of my mind, well let’s just say they’re not exactly easy for someone else to follow, let alone some of them, the depth and darkness of them, no one wants to hear that.
“…I thought you knew better Chad, I really did. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I finally brought my gaze up to meet his own. That question breaking through my thoughts, suddenly bringing me back to reality. He sat there, waiting, expectantly. His hands clasped together, resting on the desk in front of him. His eyebrow raised, a semi-forced stern expression directed at me. What did I have to say for myself?
“Nobody’s perfect, sir.”
Did this guy even care? Does he really give a rat’s ass if I pass or fail? If I smoke or drink or try drugs, or is all of this the stupid bullshit of his position, this, this pretend to care garbage? I sat up a little straighter in the hard wooden chair I was seated in—I should at least attempt to look like I care what he’s saying.
“…king has serious health hazards but I’m sure you already know this, given you’re discussing it this we…”
I don’t care so why should he? It’s my body, my choices and I’m a teenager, it’s my job to fuck up, rebel a little. I’m supposed to be figuring out who I am and if I can’t make my own choices, then I’ll never figure that out.
At least this time he caught me with an actual cigarette, unlike last time. Last time, well actually I’m not sure how he didn’t realize I wasn’t smoking one of those last time. Besides, nicotine is the least harmless of what I’ve put into my body as of late. I could turn on the whole peer pressure bit like I did last time; he’s a sucker for that.
“…know you’re bright, perhaps one of the top in your class, you should…”
Then again, peer pressure is a huge dilemma I’m dealing with. I’ve been in the top ten percent of my class since elementary school. Always the straight-laced kid, honor roll, perfect attendance—forgive me if I want to take a break. I think I can afford it, let alone deserve one. The shit I face daily, it drives me crazy. Sometimes I wonder when adults tell me that they understand, I wonder if they really mean it.
Sometimes I think I’d like to just let a high last, take me away, maybe to Neverland or even Wonderland. It’d be nice to be somewhere I never had to grow up or somewhere nothing made sense. Other times, other times I think that it would be nice if the high were the last thing I ever experienced.
Yes that means what it implies. Like I said, this life I’ve got going on, there’s some serious shit I’ve got to deal with. Especially this whole who I am nonsense. I’m tall, meaning I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m smart, I can’t exactly turn it off so that’s another thing to peg me as different.
“…Miss Johnson speaks so highly of your potential, how far you will…”
Isn’t this what my guidance counselor is for? This whole achieve your greatest dreams, you can do it, you’re the best bullshit they’re supposed to tell us. It’s not like talking about the goings on of my mind, well let’s just say they’re not exactly easy for someone else to follow, let alone some of them, the depth and darkness of them, no one wants to hear that.
“…I thought you knew better Chad, I really did. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I finally brought my gaze up to meet his own. That question breaking through my thoughts, suddenly bringing me back to reality. He sat there, waiting, expectantly. His hands clasped together, resting on the desk in front of him. His eyebrow raised, a semi-forced stern expression directed at me. What did I have to say for myself?
“Nobody’s perfect, sir.”