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*VLAN!!*

 

It’s a few minutes after 5 o’ clock and I just came into my room. My bed is right where it’s supposed to be and I jump right on it after swinging my shoes and throwing my backpack without care. My pillow is always there on the bed, well done for the evening and morning. The reason why the door slammed so hard is simple: I don’t want to be bothered by anyone. I lie myself on my stomach and gently press my head on my pillow under which I slid my arms and began to cry (in peace). Who has never done that? Crying as hard as you want without anyone capable of hearing you? At this very moment the tears flow down my cheeks and I feel a slight pain coming from the side of my face. Many times, as I come home from classes, I feel completely angry. My parents don’t know anything about it, but how can I possibly blame them? Nobody, except me, knows nothing of what I do every evening when I come home. I’m totally calm during the day, being all introverted and indifferent, who could possibly guess that, in reality, I’m so enraged? Now that I don’t have the strength nor the stamina to continue to cry out, I start to sob softly to myself. My cardiac rhythm diminishes and I slowly calm myself down. Why me…? What did I do? How can I manage undergoing all of this? I really hate this life – my life – life in all its entirety. If only all these fuckers could just go fuck themselves and burn in hell! I shoot my fist high up and come down fast, hitting my mattress. Why am I not able to deliver this force to Paul to show my gratitude and love for him? Why am I always inclined to stoop down low to his blows…? Why does it always have to be like this…? Why have I not been spared this afternoon…? So many questions gravitate my mind and it just seems to never go away before I finally come about calming myself down.

 

I get up slowly from my bed – my body aches everywhere. I hope this is the case… I open the door to my room and then roam around the house until I reach the front of my bathroom door. I place myself in front of the door and take a breather. I make the moment much more dramatic than it should be and then brace for the event that I hate. Breathing slowly, I turn the doorknob and enter the room. Just a couple of steps necessary to reach the bathroom mirror of which I see a troubling figure: the reflection of a brown, short boy; even if this is not the first thing that strikes us when taking the first look. Speaking of looks, here’s why the figure is hard to bear: I have, in front of me, a child with a purple left cheekbone and red blistered eyes. Small amount of tears can be found concentrated at the end of his eyelids. His look is stern, sad and full of hate. Every time I have this figure in front of me, I always have a hard time imagining myself. You know, when we look at ourselves in the mirror, we don’t necessarily have the impression of seeing someone who we already know. And as for me, well I can’t get myself to believe that that figure I see in front of me is actually me. My eyes close slowly since I feel tears rise; I think I’ve cried enough for today. My fists clench, lips begin to tremble, and another crisis is on its way… The only thing is that –

 

“Adrien!! Dinner!”

 

And there it is. Looks like dinner time has finally come about. This affects my tears like a dam and gives me a chance to encompass my anger; push it all the way down to my belly.

 

“I’m comin’ Ma!”

 

***

 

“What did you do to yourself?”

 

“Huh? Oh sorry, uh… Well I was playing with my bro and well there was a knock and so… right in the face!”

 

“Oh, is that so?”

 

It’s funny. I got the same question yesterday from my mother, but I said that it’s because I was in a boxing rink. To believe that people could be worried as to the condition of my health. It’s useless to say to you who asked me this question since one person is sufficiently courteous to ask how I am. Unfortunately, Alice seems far to shrewd to believe in any of my stories. She gives me a sort of sad look (almost disappointed?). She later turns her focus on the French teacher. Paul was behind me and the moment I bend down to get my backpack, I see him pass beside me to give me a good shove and laughs his ass off with his so-called friends, embracing the situation. I raise my head and take an accusatory look – black with much contempt. He flees through the door. Good, no time to mourn about myself. I guess I’m gonna have fun scratching away at everything on my papers just to wait for the bell.

 

"Faîtes-moi de la place, juste un peu de place pour ne pas qu'on m'efface,

J'n'ai pas trop d'amis, regardez en classe c'est pas l'extase, J'ai beaucoup d'espace, je suis seul ! Et personne à qui le dire ! C'est pas l'pire, quand la pause arrive, je ne suis pas tranquille il faut que je m'éclipse, ou alors, Accuser les coups, ou dehors, Il faudra que je cours... Tous les jours... Faudra-t-il que je cours..jusqu'au bout...? Je n'ai plus de souffle, je veux que l'on m'écoute, plus de doute, Pour m'en sortir je dois tenir et construire mon futur, Partir à la conquête d'une vie moins dure, sûr que c'est pas gagné ! Mais j'assure mes arrière, pour connaître l'amour et le monde, Il faudra que je cours... Tous les jours...

Faudra-t-il que je cours..jusqu'au bout...?"

 

No, it’s not me who came up with these words; I simply extracted them from an excellent song. I’m telling you about a true song that came from a true band. Do you know it? If so, you are probably someone who merits the category of people with good taste. If not, you do however have the potential to become one, but it’s a pity that you don’t have the chance to know it. At this very moment, I’m singing this song in my head and writing the lyrics as I go along on my sheet with my pencil. As usual, I try to innovate, searching for a new writing/drawing style. I then run

it all later with my black pen. Ah yes, another thing that I forgot to mention about me: Music. Just thinking about it… mmh… just gives me this vibe to write some poems. But you know, I’m not gonna do that. Maybe at this point I’m beginning to annoy you. Well anyway, I’m a big fan of music and I love living in this world; my little bubble that I like to create with my headphones and MP3 player. I only listen to dark music and I don’t give a fuck what other people think – me, I enjoy it. I play these tracks: “Fuckin’ Perfect”, “Welcome to my Life”, Demons”, and “Everybody’s Fool”. But I also like the ones with lots of spirit such as: “Nothing Else Matters”, “Hall of Fame”. You see where I’m getting at here?

 

Anyway yeah, now that you know my best friend and my worst enemy (being what I call “the others”), you know a little bit about everything about me… oh no wait there’s something special missing! Despite the fear and hate I have of others, I want to believe the goodness of mankind. And that’s the very reason why I want to become a fireman. It’s a nice speech to recite over, but more importantly, it’s true imagining saving people’s lives… Yeah I really find that classy. Well anyway, all that to say that I intend to pursue a career of this field. For that I have a slight interest to get myself into sports, maybe I’d even surprise myself!  

 

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