Everything in my life follows a schedule. My education, my extra-curriculars, my chores, my hygiene, my social life— you name it. I have everything planned ahead of time, to the point where I know which vegetable of what salad I will be eating at what time. It may seem like I'm magnifying my daily functionality, but I assure you, I would not lie about a matter such as this. "Well, what about the things that just happen suddenly?" some people ask. Not to boast or anything, but ever since I adopted this lifestyle, my life has been falling right into place. It's not as chaotic or painful as it used to be. 

               At least, that is what I wish I could convince myself. Now you may seem confused. Just what the is going on, right? Well, pretty much to summarize everything, my life . I hate people, therefore I ignore them and shove my face into my books. I want to get back at humanity for ing my life over for the past few years, whether it be through the process of showing them up or ridiculing them through big words that they don't comprehend— it's fantastic. I'm a complete , and most people can't even digest it.

               A few years ago, I was not who I am today.

               At all.

               I used to run track for school. I used to dress up all feminine and speak like I roasted people for a living. I was a bully that pointed out peoples flaws and joked about them. I was popular. I had friends.

              And now?

               Well...

               "Watch where you're going, Window Face," comes the agonizingly unintelligent sneer of one of my classmates as I plunge toward the floor with a stack of books in my hands. Well, it was a stack of books. Snickers emit from all around me, the boys high five each other in doltish triumph and proceed to walk down the hallway and continue their day. I, however, huff angrily and pick up the nasty pile of work that stole all of my sleep from the past day and a half.

               So, yeah. My life may no longer be as chaotic or painful as it used to be, but it's definitely complicated and aggravating.

               And if you haven't put two and two together— I'm Window Face. I will give them credit, it's more creative than 'Four Eyes,' but it pisses me off nonetheless. I wear large glasses and people seem to be annoyed with it. Meanwhile, most of my senior class is composed of hipsters that like to inhale grass on their free time.

               If you could hear me, I'm pulling my hair out.

               The reason why I haven't spoken up these past four years is because I don't want to go through the same incident I went through in eighth grade. Let's just say that I get psychological evaluations once a week, where I see my therapist who is now my closest friend. As sad as it may seem, it's better than locking everyone down and burning the place.

               Though, I am currently reconsidering it because as I try to pick my belongings off the ground, students  are kicking them all around the hallway for amusement. I clench my teeth. I promised my parents—my mom mostly because my dad actually supports solving problems with violence—that I would get back at people in the classroom.

               I safely assumed that she meant through debates or discussions in class. And believe me, I definitely use those to my advantage. I have humiliated people to the point where my teachers have to turn around and stifle their laughter. Most of my peers don't understand the insults I conjure because they're too advanced for them to decipher, which usually fuels some of my insults. And as long as I don't swear, my teachers don't say anything because they probably agree with me. 

               These are more reasons why I get targeted at school— I'm a teacher's pet and I make them look stupid in class.

               Despite that, it's not enough. I am an angry person. You think I want to let these ers get away with embarrassing me every day for the past four years straight? The hell I do! One day, I'm going to lose my , and no one will be prepared for it. These are the maniacal thoughts running through my mind as I scurry to pick up my assignments that I slaved over.

               "Excuse me, is this yours?" I look up, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. A guy with blonde hair and a kind smile is looking down at me. I refuse to blush at my unfortunate situation with this cute guy present.

               I frown slightly, "Yes. Thank you." He had given me the remainder of my things. I stand up and without looking at him, I continue to my class.

               "Hey Window Face, did you bring my homework?" A guy with auburn hair casually slides himself over to my desk, folding his arms on top of it. I fight the urge to growl.

               "No." I had to force myself to give him a short response because if it were anything longer than one word, I would be locked up in a federal prison.

               He gazes down at the Korean Language papers on my desk. "Oh, but to me it looks like you did." He reaches for it, a cheeky grin on his face. He starts picking it up. "I'll take tha—"

               I slammed my hand down on my paper. "I said no." The look of surprise on his face was satisfying. I've never talked back to him before. Well, today was special. I was feeling a little homicidal from this extra lack of sleep from being put off schedule. "Do your own homework, or are you too much of a simpleton to understand your own language?"

               He furrows his eyebrows. "The you say, Window Face?"

               I didn't bother to respond because at that moment, the teacher had walked in. "Alright kids, get back to your seats! And I hope you did your homework!"

               He turns to look at me once more before heading back to his assigned seat. "This isn't over."

               I shrug. What the hell was he going to do to me? Beat me up? Hit a girl in public? This kid can't even walk straight without looking stupid.

               The rest of the day grew gradually worse. Think of everything that makes you angry, happening back to back to back, being sleep deprived and hungry all at once because you forgot your lunch at home. And now imagine being in your eighth period class with a substitute who can't seem to control the majority of the students.

               "Kids, please settle down!" She looks ancient, like she can break if someone so much as sneezes in her direction. I kind of feel bad because she'll probably need medical attention of some sort after dealing with my class, which is primarily composed of imbeciles. "Students, please sit down in your seats! Settle down, now!"

               I frown at the boys to my left who are giggling impishly, all of them with their eyes glued to the phone belonging to the boy in the middle. On my right, there are girls gossiping about another rumor about some mysterious guy that they keep passing in the hallway. They literally talk about him every day, when will they ever get the message that he's not interested? Jesus Christ.

               And me? I'm sitting here with my foot up my , thinking of some way to get the out of here or ways to hang myself with school materials. This classroom is obscenely loud and I'm appalled that a teacher from across the hall hasn't stopped by to check in on things. This is an honors class, yet I'm surrounded by a flock of cretins.

               I sigh in annoyance, get up and offer my help to the teacher. Her eyes gleam in gratitude as I look over the attendance sheet and mark the students' attendance. There is no way that this class is going to quiet down anytime soon, so I might as well take the stress of this off her chest. She seems like a really sweet lady and I would hate for her to have a heart attack trying to control these degenerates.

               When I finish, she thanks me and asks if I can do some of the tasks that my absent teacher wanted her to do. I agree without hesitation.

               Honestly, yes.

               Anything that gets me out of this hole.

               As much as I want to tell off my peers for their disrespectful behavior to the substitute, that wouldn't be smart, it would probably backfire, I'll probably get bullied more, and if my mom finds out, I'll most likely be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Instead, I grab the large box full of numerous textbooks and novels and walk out the door. A ing heavy box of textbooks and novels— holy . And this old lady was supposed to carry it? I never did like my evil Psychology teacher— the lady's a spawn of the Devil.

               This day has been complete and it definitely tested my patience, but I managed to 'calm' myself down to the point of only glaring and swearing under my breath. This walk to the library seems to be helping, too. Walking alone without hearing some variation of idiocy ringing down the hallway is refreshing, even if I am carrying a box with a questionable amount of weight in it. Regardless, I feel blessed to have gotten the hell out of that classroom.

               As I walk closer to the library to return these class sets of books, I notice a group of sketchy looking guys huddled around talking about something. I frown in annoyance. They look like they're trying to be gangsters with their leather jackets and tight pants, their feet adorned with combat boots.

               Great.

               I'm not one to judge by appearance, but they look like they're going to be a problem.

               Who am I kidding? That's exactly what I do.

               As I get closer to them, I hear them murmuring things to one another. It looks kind of secretive and urgent, seeing as how the other boys are leaning towards one member. Alright, if you have some secrets to tell, maybe go to the bathroom? Why would you do that during the school day, in the hallway, in front of the library, as school is still in session?

               Some people's kids.

               I honestly wouldn't care as long as they weren't in front of the only entrance to the library. Where is the librarian? Or a teacher? Or a hall monitor? Or the police? No one? Why does this always happen to me?

               "...leader...fight...then she..." I heard some of the words that the storyteller was whispering, but I didn't catch much. I'm still a few feet away. "...really hot...short skirt..."

               Are you ing kidding me.

               This is why they're suspiciously whispering in the hallway? Because of some ty girl he saw randomly on the street? I'm like five feet away from them now, and either they're blind or they're deliberately ignoring me.

               "Excuse me," I announce 'politely', but to no avail, the boy continues talking to his group of friends. "Excuse me." I try it once again, slowly losing patience. I'm holding all this ing , he better move in the next ten seconds.

               "Excuse me—"

               "—And don't even get me started on her legs—"

               "Oh my god, could you please move the out of the way?" I demand loudly, earning not only the boy and his friends' attention, but the attention from the people inside the library. "Thanks for noticing. Next time, don't block the only ing entrance to the library to talk about your ual fantasies. On that note, go yourselves." Their mouths are wide open

               With that, I walk straight into them, bumping and making my forceful entrance into the library. I huff angrily at the people staring at me and they hastily look away. I probably should not have done what I had just done, but can you blame me? I'm so tired of everything, and I just want to go home and eat some food.

               I place the box of books on the counter and leave it for the librarian because he's nowhere in sight. I definitely do not have the patience for that, so I turn around, only to look into the gaze of the librarian.

                my life.

               His arms are crossed and he's looking at me with disapproval. "Nami, I am disappointed in finding you harassing your fellow students. As grateful as I am with you delivering these books back to the library, that will not excuse you from your disrespectful attitude toward those young men out there."

               My jaw drops and my stomach feels like a giant knot. "B-but Mr. Choi! I promise it's not what it looks like! This is a misunderstanding—"

               He holds his hand up, indicating that I stop talking. "Detention, after school. You're a good student, but even the good students make poor decisions." He straightens his tie before walking toward the counter and filling out the top of a stack of red slips. "I hope you take this time after school to reflect on your mistake and evaluate your intentions at this Academy. I want to watch you succeed, Nami, but first you need to fix your attitude." He rips the top of the stack and hands it to me.

               I grab the slip and fight the urge to clench my teeth or flare my nostrils. "I understand, Mr. Choi. Thank you for your guidance."

               He nods. "Have a great day, Nami."

               And then he grabs the box of the counter and walks towards the back of the library.

               Are you ting me? This is why I make schedules that accommodates for my daily actions. I don't care if that seems like I have OCD—which I do— but it definitely prevents like this from happening! I take deep breaths as I make my exit out of the library. The boys seemed to have heard everything, and they had smug expressions on their faces. I scoff, but not before making an additional comment, "You guys look like d-bags with your matching jackets."

               I don't bother to wait for their reaction as I stalk off toward my Psychology class to retrieve my items. I hear a shout from behind me, "See you in detention!"

               This is why I hate people.

This is really different from the original, tone wise. It also has more backstory. Sure, the original had funny scenarios, but it didn't make much sense nor did it have any direction. It was also super rushed and condescending. Well, we'll see how this goes. Thanks for your patience. Life seriously lmao