Breathe Me

A New Vice

There is a great distinction between being alone and feeling lonely, although many mistake them as one and the same. Feeling lonely is a state in which I have known very little to genuinely enjoy. However, being alone is something I have often craved and, over the years, become quite good at. In school, though little would agree, it can be a very good state to be in. There's fewer distractions, less harassment, and more freedom to accomplish what you need to. In the end, it leaves me with more free time to just relax and let my mind wander. Being alone is a choice; being lonely is not. And while my mother seems to believe I belong to the latter group, I am actually quite content spending quality time with myself. After all, it's always been my choice to sit alone; I've just never had any contesters. None, that is, until my first day of senior year. And, as my luck would go, he was a persistent talker.

"Alright, everyone, quiet down. before we get started, I would like you all to check your schedule again and make sure you are signed up for Intercultural Communications with Keegan. If not, this would be your cue to leave."

Ms. Keegan was a fairly young woman, probably no older than thirty-five, about average heigh, and a small frame. Still, despite her youth, the amount of energy she possessed seemed unnatural. Her words almost strung together into a single unit as she delivered an entire speech in a mere breath. And, no sooner than a quick breath would allow did she continue on her list of introductions that were so clearly memorized and recited far prior to the resuming of school.

"Great, now that you are all here, let us begin!"

Ms. Keegan continued on her rant but I was only paying partial attention to the words that flew out of her mouth. It was mostly a run down of the year, and I caught the phrase "year-long project", at which point I entirely tuned out, not because of boredom, but rather because I already had my completed copy resting in a folder that was in the backpack currently between my feet.

Instead of worrying about that, I was able to sink into my chair comfortably and enjoy how good it felt to have a smile spread across my face and enjoy my success. This was my last class on the first day of senior year, and I had successfully scored a table for one in every one of them... or so I thought. Just as I was taking out my journal from my bag, a knock was heard on the classroom door, followed by one of the school's counselors escorting in a student- one whom I had never seen before.

"Ms. Keegan, sorry to interrupt. Mr. Vice here just moved to town this weekend and I was showing him around. He will be joining your class, so please mark him present."

New student. Well that explains the whole unfamiliarity part. Though I hadn't made friends with many people at school, I knew just about everyone from spending countless hours in the school's publishing lab as chief editor for the newspaper, which gave me access to all media files, including yearbook pictures.

"You can take a seat wherever you like. I was about to pass out the syllabus for the year, so you made it just in time."

Instinctively, I put my head down and stared at my feet. Over the years, I have learned the best body language cues that give off the "don't speak to me" vibe. And while avoiding eye-contact almost never works on a teacher, but in fact makes them even more inclined to call on you, this same act of avoidance works very well on my fellow peers. I had a one hundred percent success rate with it over my entire schooling career. But, as with everything good in life, it must come to an end at some point. And "Mr. Vice" here dropped that stat down to a ninety-nine as he pulled out the chair beside me and took his seat. This kid seriously must be ignorant to social cues.

I let out a barely audible moan as I slid my journal back in my bag, knowing that all opportunities of me having private time with my thoughts in this class had been tarnished.