08. entry

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[ WISH PURE LOVE AND SOFT PEACE
UPON THE ONES
WHO'VE BEEN UNKIND TO YOU
AND KEEP MOVING FORWARD.

THIS WILL FREE YOU BOTH !
— unknown. ]

Dear diary,

I hate it when people call me smart.

Like I get it, I have an A plus average and my hand is always up during lessons.

But that doesn't mean I'm smart.

Jane, Jane is smart. I just work hard. Like I'm so sick of explaining to people.

Everyday I review the material, I make short notes. I make even shorter short notes. I make a definition booklet. I make spider diagrams. Then I reread that shit all over again.

Jane gets better marks than me by just reading the material.

This. This is not smart. This is me working hard so I can make my parents proud. Fuck You.

Y'all say I'm smart because all of you are too lazy to read the material or because all of you are too busy stuffing your nose into a line of cocaine or because all of you think it's cool to be that person that parties all day and night and waste your parents money.

I don't want to do that.

I mean I party a lot too, but I know the balance. I know how to keep my shit together.

Also, I really really hate it when I tell someone that I'm really nervous for a test or for my grade and they reply with "don't fucking lie to me what do you have to be worried about?"

Like??? I'm sorry? But it doesn't really matter if you think I'm smart cause I don't think that and I feel like puking every time I have to take a fucking test. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

Just because I get some good grades doesn't mean there's no possibility of me getting a bad grade on the next one. Tests are always about instance. You could be the smartest kid on the block but have a fight with your mother the day before and have that affect you mentally while you do the test.

Fuck all of you.

And fuck you Aleisha. I gave you my comment on what I thought about midterms and you had to start scolding me, saying that I shouldn't say that I thought it was hard, or that I'm scared about it, or that I'm worried about failing.

You told me that I shouldn't lie to you.

But I wasn't lying. I really thought that I was gonna fail.

I still remember it as clear as the sky I see through my rooftop. I tried to defend myself, tell you that I actually meant it, but you didn't want to listen to me, of course you never listen to anyone do you.

Then it happened. I've never experienced it before, but my breath caught up in my throat and hot tears bubbled up my throat while I started hyperventilating, unable to breathe.

It was that one time I had let go of my mother's hand in the pool, unaware that it was the deep end, unable to swim and I drowned for a minute, unable to breathe and comprehend anything as salt water filled my nose and mouth and stung my eyes, just till my mother dragged me out in haste.

Maybe it was a panic attack, and I should've been used to it. Not the attack but the very feeling. No one's ever listened to me. I was that one person that had their conversation cut off in the middle because I felt like no one was listening.

I wouldn't have minded if I was alone. Those hiccup-y sounds shouldn't have been foreign to me. But I was in a crowd, where the sound of my nose and the sight of those tears streaming down my cheeks would've caused them to stare at me like I'm crazy or laugh at me.

Hiding them were hard. Keeping my head down on my desk, covering my mouth so I didn't make a sound was hard.

And it was the start of many more panic attacks.

[A/N : there's no chapter for no. 7 because he reads both of these one after the other. Sorry if you were expecting one for it!!]

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