23/03

My teacher is stupid.

Only two minutes unaccounted for and I get scolded like a five year old. I was tying my freaking shoelace in the middle of the hallway, but obviously I can't speak up for myself (well its more like I'm not willing to, but that is beside the point), so this dumb old hag was convinced that I was trying to truant or something. It's frustrating, how I cannot explain myself. Just thinking about it made me want to write in this.

But...I'm not feeling any better. 

you, inatimate object. 

Okay so I might feel a little better now.

I'm not sure if part of this writing therapy thing entails documenting everything I notice around me because from how much I'm writing in detail, I might as well as let my blood spill on these pages so I don't find my legs dangling mid-air to be the last thing I see some day. 

I'll do that anyway.

I found the necklace my mother had given me on my seventh birthday; despite it being underneath my bed, where coagulating dust is commonplace and next to a pile of socks, it looks like it hasn't rusted at all. Its ridiculous. I'd at least expected the front of the pendant were to be scratched a little. 

It's silver, with navy blue stones pressed together by thin slits of glass (or plastic, I don't know). Considering that it was near one of the leg-things of my bed and I do tend to move my bed alot while trying to, well, get socks out, I find it surprising that it didn't suffer any damage; it was still shiny and everything.
My mom looked so happy when I would wear the necklace everywhere and then at night before I took a shower and went to bed, I'd put it on my bedside table and make sure it was right in the middle of it so it wouldn't slip off. 

She knew that I liked it alot, well, of course I did.

My dad didn't like the necklace. Well, it was more like he didn't like how I took care of it. He said to my mother every time she gushed over it, in short, that my social skills in high school would be "severely underdeveloped" because I apparently would look at everything in a positive light. He called the present girly, and when I told him to stop calling it that, he called me a-

...Perhaps reminising isn't a good idea. Not while I'm going through this writing therapy.
But, I'm wearing the necklace now. Its hidden under my scarf and my hoodie, because I'm not risking anyone seeing it and making up more stupid rumours about me. That's what everyone in my class does. They're like moths to a lamp post when it comes to gossip and rumours and all of the stuff that teenagers would be interested in nowadays. 

I sound as though I'm in my fifties, isolating myself from being called a teenager. You could say that I feel like they're too immature for me. Then again, they haven't had the need to grow up earlier, to think for themselves, because they haven't lost their family like I have. As a result I've grown to be someone insanely boring I suppose. So maybe I'm just too mature for my age, which in turn are generally the same age as my classmates.

Speaking of teenagers, the couple behind me probably think they're being sneaky, or my senses have been heightened in compensation for my inability to talk, because they're being all touchy and with each other. I want to glare at them. How does the teacher not notice?

(...I am aware that speaking isn't a sense. Shut up.)

I am personifying a book. 

I told a book to shut up. 

This writing therapy won't be working anytime soon. I've gone mental.

- Soohyun