Limitless

I gazed down at the paper I had been writing on, unconsciously gripping the pencil in my right hand even tighter. It was American history class – Mr. Adams had been talking for roughly ten minutes now, and the gazes around the room had begun to glaze over.

He wasn’t truly boring; it just was an undeniable fact of high school education, students’ attention could only be kept for so long.

“Whitney,” I heard whispered, and I glanced to my right to see my friend Brice staring at me, probably trying to get my attention. I raised my eyebrows, and he did a quick glance back at the board where Adams was explaining Wilson’s points in a lot of detail, then back at me. He mouthed towards me “Kill me fucking now.”

Brice had a problem with cussing, I didn’t really understand his fascination with the ‘F’ word, other than that his parents are completely against his mouth. And he is completely against his parents.

I forced a smile and nodded, then going back to summarizing the current page of notes in bullet points. Mr. Adams was one of the most hated teachers at the school – a title unjustly given in my opinion, not that anyone knew that.

If you’d heard me talk with my friends recently, or read my facebook comments, you’d think I was just like everyone else at this school – same opinions, friends, and thoughts. But I like to think, deep in my mind, that I’m different.

The things my friends say lately have driven me absolutely crazy – their rude, stupid comments about others, events, and just anything. I hadn’t thought I’d changed that much in the past few years, but the more I thought about it the more I could see it.

I was still writing down notes when the bell rang a half hour later. Mr. Adams had run overtime on class again, and his last minute reading assignment was either missed or ignored by the majority of the class. I checked back to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything as I left the class with Bryce. All I could see were my history notes, carefully folded in the trash can.