6 march , 2023
West wood Highschool , class 12 B
( UNKNOWN POV )
The ceiling above my desk had this one brown stain shaped like a cloud. I'd been staring at it for weeks now, counting how many tiny cracks spread out from it. It had become the only thing in class that didn't change. Everything else moved, talked, and laughed, but that stain just stayed there, quiet. I liked that about it.
The teacher's voice droned on from the front, steady and slow, like a clock you can't turn off. Something about the Civil War. I wasn't really listening. The only thing that kept me awake was the sound of laughter behind me. Three girls, maybe four. They always sat there. Their laughter wasn't loud, but sharp enough to cut through the fog in my head.
I tried to ignore it, but every few seconds, it came again. Sometimes it sounded like they were laughing about something on their phones. Sometimes it felt like they were laughing at me. I didn't know why I cared, but I did. Maybe I just wanted a reason to be annoyed.
I kept my head down, arms folded, pretending to sleep. The desk was cool under my cheek. The world felt far away when I closed my eyes — the teacher's voice turned into muffled noise, and the laughter blurred into background static. I could've stayed like that forever.
Then I heard my name.
" Mr Aaron Blackwell " the teacher said. "Would you like to join us today?"
I lifted my head slowly. "Sorry," I muttered.
He gave me that look teachers always give when they're pretending to be patient. "If you're going to sleep, you can do it somewhere else," he said.
"I wasn't sleeping."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then tell us — when did the Civil War start?"
I stared at him. My mind was blank. The class was silent now. I didn't care enough to answer. "I don't know," I said finally.
He sighed, the kind that sounded rehearsed. "Principal's office. Maybe you'll stay awake there."
A few snickers came from the back. I didn't look at them. I picked up my bag and walked out without a word.
...
The hallways were mostly empty. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and whatever they served in the cafeteria that morning. I walked slowly, not because I was scared or angry — just because there was no reason to hurry. The world always seemed to move fast around me, and I just… didn't.
The principal's office door had a small glass window. I knocked, then stepped inside.
Mr. Harris sat behind his desk, glasses halfway down his nose, typing something on his computer. He looked up, motioned for me to sit.
"So, Aaron," he said. "Sleeping in class again?"
I shrugged. "Guess so."
He leaned back, folded his hands. "You're a smart kid. I've seen your records. But your teachers tell me you've been distant lately. Not paying attention. Not trying."
I nodded slightly.
He waited for me to say something, but I didn't. He sighed. "You know, life doesn't give out prizes for just showing up. You have to work for it. Grades, effort, responsibility — that's what matters in your age ."
His voice faded after that. I watched his lips move, but the words didn't feel real anymore. Just sound. I looked past him at the window — sunlight spilled through the blinds, painting thin white lines across his desk. Dust floated in the air. It was kind of nice, in a still way.
"Do you understand what I'm saying, Aaron?"
"Yeah," I said automatically.
He frowned. "I'm not sure you do. This attitude will catch up with you. You're wasting your potential."
Maybe he was right. Maybe not. It didn't change anything.
He eventually let me go with a warning. I thanked him — because that's what you're supposed to do — and walked out.
...
The cafeteria was half full when I got there. The noise hit me first — trays clattering, sneakers squeaking, people yelling across tables. It was too much. I spotted Arthur and Jason sitting by the window, their usual spot. Arthur was hunched over a notebook, probably drawing again. Jason was eating fries, talking with his mouth full.
"Yo," Jason said when he saw me. "Heard you got kicked out of class again."
Arthur looked up. "Sleeping?"
"Yeah," I said, sitting down across from them.
Jason grinned. "Man, you've got guts. Harris probably gave you the whole 'you're wasting your future' speech again, huh?"
"Something like that."
Arthur pushed his glasses up. "You should probably listen to him, though. Finals are close. I've been studying for days, man."
"Of course you have," Jason said. "You've basically become a hermit."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I just don't want to fail."
Jason looked back at me. "He's right, though. You should at least try. Get your grades up, get into a good college, get a good job — that's the plan."
I poked at the sandwich on my tray. "And then what?"
Jason blinked. "What do you mean, 'then what'?"
"I mean, after all that. You get the job, the money, the house… then what?"
Jason smirked. "Then you live good, man. You buy stuff. Travel. Meet girls. You don't have to stress about bills or working some boring part-time job forever."
Arthur nodded. "He's got a point. Money doesn't solve everything, but it helps."
I looked at them both. They sounded like commercials. "So we study our whole lives just to buy things that don't last?"
Jason laughed. "You make it sound depressing."
"Isn't it?" I said.
He shrugged. "Maybe, but what's the alternative? Sitting around doing nothing?"
"Maybe."
Arthur sighed. "You always talk like that. Like nothing matters."
"Because it doesn't."
He frowned, but didn't argue. Jason leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. "Man, you're weird," he said finally. "You think too much."
"Maybe you think too little," I replied.
Jason grinned. "Touché."
For a moment, none of us said anything. The noise around us filled the silence — laughter, trays, footsteps. It was strange, sitting there in a room full of people and still feeling completely alone.
Arthur eventually broke the quiet. "You know, sometimes I wish I didn't care about all this stuff either. It's exhausting."
"You could stop," I said.
He shook his head. "No. I can't. My parents would kill me. And honestly, I don't want to fall behind."
Jason nudged him. "You just want to impress that girl in bio class."
Arthur groaned. "Shut up."
Jason laughed again, and for a second, things felt normal. I almost smiled. Almost.
...
Lunch ended, and we went our separate ways. The halls were crowded again, everyone moving fast, like they were being chased by time. I moved slower, letting them pass me. The lights above buzzed faintly, a constant hum that matched the rhythm in my head.
I stopped by the washroom before heading back to class. The mirror above the sink was smudged with fingerprints and water spots. I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on my face.
For a while, I just stared at my reflection. My eyes looked tired — not from lack of sleep, but from something heavier. The skin under them had faint shadows. My black hair were a mess, falling over my forehead. I didn't look bad, just… blank.
I wondered if this was how everyone looked when no one was watching — quiet, lost, pretending to know what they were doing.
Someone came in, talking on his phone. I stepped aside, waited for him to leave. When he did, the silence returned.
The water kept running. I let it. The sound filled the room, soft and constant.
I thought about what Jason said — money, girls, comfort. Maybe he was right. Maybe all of this really was just about survival. You work, you earn, you enjoy what little you can before it all fades.
But the thought didn't make me feel better. It made everything feel smaller.
I turned off the tap and watched the water swirl down the drain. For a moment, it looked like it was pulling everything with it — noise, thoughts, people, time.
When it was gone, I was still there. Same place, same face. Just me.
The bell rang in the distance, muffled through the walls. I took a deep breath, straightened myself , and walked out.
...
The day went on like it always did — one period bleeding into the next, faces blurring together, voices overlapping. By the time the final bell rang, I couldn't remember a single thing I'd learned. Not that I cared.
Outside, the sky was pale and empty. The air smelled faintly like rain that never came. I walked home alone, thinking about nothing in particular — or maybe about everything at once.
That's how most days went. Nothing special, nothing terrible. Just… another day that felt the same as the one before.