Actors

Actors – Jalex

(Alex POV)
Being the person that seems so happy and energetic all the time, uses a lot of caffeine but also stresses the metal health of an emotionally unstable person, like me. After the anvil amount of coffee, being a little buzzed, being a little stressed and being completely paranoid, after all this I am still tired and wrecked from whole nights of movie marathons and late night rituals, not to mention the still not done, half bullshit-half factual answers that look like a five year old took a swipe of their crayon and made up an answer, school wasn’t my strong point.

Nothing was really my strong point anyway. I had friends but I have no memorable “status” that people know my by, only the freak-who-doesn’t-know-shit. And as a plus I have troubles with public speaking. Lots of it, I have no friends other than the people who I sit with at lunch because I have nothing else to do that draw or write lyrics to a sing that would end up in the bin at the end of the day It’s funny though because people still take the time to hang out with me and even we make jokes together. We laugh and cry over the most stupid things that the queen herself would probably die hearing them.

The types of people who grind my gears are these guys which maybe if I wasn’t such a shy little prick I could be friends with them. Their names are Tom and Keith. They are the type of guys that will probably turn out to be “tradies”. Not to be rude but they are the stereotypical douchebags. Blonde hair, tanned skin, asshole personality, you know the type of guys that have every horny girl wrapped around their finger. Yes, I am an asshole but I don’t kiss and tell, fuck and run. Do you get the hang of things?

People these days are the same no matter what and much to my annoyance it never changes. Yeah. I might be friends with the most unpopular people but they have nice stories and optimistic personalities, saying that this part of their life is character building.

Lying low in a private school shouldn’t be a hard thing to do. Being expected to wear uniform, shirts tucked in, polished black shoes, relatively all looking awfully the same; I don’t know why a funny kid like me stands out like a paedophile at a childcare. People know me as the fag, the one who plays for his home team. The one who like the d?

My family always ask me if I am going alright at school and ask if I need any help. They notice the bruises I get and the blood stained shirts but they dint care enough to ask if I am okay or ask if they can do anything to help.

I don’t like many people nor have any friends that I can be, friendly with, you know? I can’t even be myself like ever; even at home too. I have to push down everything inside of me and it drives met insane. Not being able to be yourself is like lying to the person you’re going to grow up to be. I can’t stand for that.
So for my hobbies you can clearly tell that I don’t express what I do…and at moment like these you don’t want to be me.

***

Sitting in class isn’t the most boring thing in the world. I find it quite interesting, not the work part but how there is so many different things to do. I lived in my own world of imagination; because that was the only way I could escape the world, the world that gives you the most troubles. School wasn’t even vital in my situation. I know I won’t graduate with school awards saying how much I was loved or with a dedication saying how amazing I truly am not that I am amazing, anyway.

Work in general is a waste of time, I don’t understand it anyway.

It’s not that I’m dumb, I actually test very well, it’s just all the projects and assignments that are handed in invisible, and they drop my grade down. I am a shy kid and rarely speak when spoken to but I have no motivation…any at all!

My parents hate me about it though, they say that if they were my age that they would put more effort into what I do and be a better person and then say if I did that, I would get more friends….what the hell!?! It’s a living hell and my teachers have the same view on it. With countless times I have been into the principal’s office I
know that every Tuesday Mr Flack gets a new bouquet of flowers ranging from roses to irises, sunflowers to mixed ones that are just made up of fake grass and green stuff to make the flowers look pretty and the amazing detail of the curly ribbon that winds around the middle of them, showing off that the old crusty man has more importance than us peasant children.

My English teacher has given me countless lectures, whether it is, lunch time. During class, after class, in between class break, anytime, you name it. It’s always the same though so it gets boring and more boring, but I’ll admit it, it’s pretty funny to see her rambling on how I am throwing my life away. How she wished when she was my age she had the opportunities that I have…..blah, blah, blah. Could you tell me something worthwhile, maybe? My English teacher is an old hag. Curly hair, broad rimmed glasses and a short appearance, but trust me, that lady could scream…but I haven’t learnt to stick up for myself yet, which is momentary a problem.

The bell rung, signalling that class was over. I am getting real good at this. Smiling, I cleaned my things off my desk, stuffed them in my falling apart pencil case and stuffed all the half asses, blank, not even have been bothered work sheets into my, also falling apart book, dusted myself off and got up to walk out of class.

I heard sniggering and whispers behind me, the only thing I caught was could you believe it? He totally kissed him! Having no idea what was happening and no clue what girls even gossip about know, wasn’t gossiping for nine year olds? Talking about how Billy likes this girl but held hands with that girl at lunch and she didn’t even deserve it because she likes the other guy Josh and like how Josh was seen with the loser girl at luck break? Wasn’t it meant to be pointless crap like that? I don’t even know so don’t ask…I couldn’t be bothered with this….why even?

Being the second subject on my day today, I dragged along to my locker, head down and avoiding eye contact. I am not happy here, I can’t express myself and even though I want to move, I can’t bring myself to do it. My parents are aware that I do want to move, they thing it would be in my best interest for me to repeat this year at a public school, knowing that I would have another chance to actually get an education.

It’s just I cannot bring myself to moving, but it’s something that I really want. I just don’t want to take the chance that what if I do move but at the public school the bulling is ten thousand times worse?

My mind starts spinning, getting paranoid again.
I can’t handle stress very well, but to others I can’t talk about it. My parents only know what I want them to know, not the other stuff…

I am stuff up, I know that.

I can’t do anything right, I am aware of.

You don’t have any real friends.

And last but not least you can’t stand up for yourself….

With all these things cycling through my head I didn’t realise that I full on walked into the cliché school jock, knocking my shit out of my hands and hence his stuff too. Great, good one, you’re unbelievable today….

“Fucking hell you emo! What do you want gay ass? Don’t even touch me; your gay will rub off on me! Go die in hell”

And with that my face was pounded into and my body pushed into the lockers. Blood poured down my light pale blue, button up shirt that and that had the school name sewn to the right side, in line with the start of the pocket on the other side…my only shirt that used to be clean. Great, fucking perfect, best way to embarrass myself was bleeding all over my only shirt that doesn’t have blood on it already.

People walked past the little scene we had and no one even bother to look at me, how could people be this god damn rude? Am I a disease?

Everyone eventually walked into class and I was left, dried blood down my face and my shirt covered in it. I didn’t need this shit.

Getting my book bag, clearly not “school uniform”, bite me. I got that and pulled my black converse out and slipped them on, not wanted anyone to know what school I went to and reporting me to the school. I’m not worried about my school logo, because that’s been covered in blood. Putting my earphones in and stuffing any books I would be need for at home, like my lyric book and my music book into the bag, I shut my locker and without second thoughts, I walked out of the school. Not with my head up, I didn’t want people to know who I was, but I wasn’t coming back for the rest of the day or week I hoped, maybe never.

***

It’s really funny walking down the street with people looking at you, out of school hours and having a bruised face with blood everywhere, people faces just judging me. Before I wouldn’t have found this amusing, I would’ve been the shy kid who really didn’t want any attention but know I want to get away.

I am hungry and feeling a little sick from the fall to the ground so I made it my mission to find the nearest coffee shop or café. Coffee wasn’t my addiction; it was just something I enjoyed, a lot. It was only about nine thirty and most adults were on their way to work and rushing along.

I was having no luck at all finding the café so worst comes to worse, I waited at a bus stop that would take me to the shop and eating area of where I was.

I was feeling very awkward, very awkward. People came and sat, stood, even laying down, taking glances my way. I wonder what they thought, a boy like me, out of school, blood stained clothes…people gave me sympathetic smiles, others gave me a once over, coming to the conclusion of what I had been through and thankfully there where those who just ignored me.

People of all ages waited along with me. Some were middle aged business men who were impatiently waiting, maybe they missed their train or something, and they were neatly dresses and wore belts more expensive than my whole outfit. Not that I was jealous, they may have had a job that payed more than enough for you to go and spend money of useless, expensive things like cuffs or aftershave.

Older teens waited there too. More of the delinquent type, not to be judgemental but with badly done haircuts and ratted up clothes, piercings or none, they did them themselves. Most of them looked like they could beat me up with one swing so I stayed away from that side of the stop.

There ended up being around about twenty of us when the bus came. Still not bothering to fix my appearance, I stepped on and getting the same looks as before.

I had this rush of anxiety. I didn’t know where to sit. There was the front where all the older passengers sat, the middle was full of the punks and college students, which I would’ve sat but there were no seats....that resulted with the back, jocks. Walking down, fifteen of the red-jumpers looking up at me, perfect.

Most of them laughed at the sight of me. Typical, isn’t it? But what surprised me were the two jocks that didn’t laugh at me. The bigger one, the one that looked like he could snap me like a stick, he had a nose ring and was looking at me with a concerned look.

The boy sitting in front of him, who also had a spare seat next to him, was staring at me with his mouth open. Blushing, I sat down next to him. He was probably just staring at my nose anyway, I’m nothing special.

Was I seriously thinking that someone like me would catch the attention of someone like the boy sitting next to me? Even if he was, you know, he is WAY out of my league. He’s perfect, a slim perfect body and the best everything. His hair was a mess and it sat perfectly. I found myself staring too. Blushing, yet again, I looked down at my feet and hoped for the bus ride to hurry up.

Because I wasn’t listening to my music as loud as I would so I could hear the conversations going on around me, one took my particular interest.

“Naw Jacky, looking up the hot stuff? The bigger one with the blonde hair said. Snapping his head and looking back at his friend, they had one of those friend conversations that you don’t need to talk to understand.

“Shut up Zack!” the boy next to me, assuming, Jack, he raised his eyebrows and looked absolutely adorable. He looked shocked and embarrassed, all in one.

Giggling, and I mean giggling like a teenage girl, I turned up my IPod and put it on shuffle, smiling for another time, What’s My Age Again started blasting and ignored everything until I found the familiar place me and my mom used to go to when I was younger.

Standing up and looking at the boy who was kind enough not to disturb me on the trip I have him a smile and continued walking out of the bus. The other boy Zack said something to Jack and he got up and followed my path.

Awkwardly standing there, Jack and I just looked up at each other. Taking out my headphones I blushed again. This boy is going to be the death of me.