I Faked My Suicide

All These Things I Hate - Bullet For My Valentine

"Can you go change your shirt?" Those were the first words my mother said to me as I walked into the living room, looking for my shoes.

"Why? I like this shirt." I scanned the room for my shoes. After a while you grow accustom to your mother's constant nagging. Change your shirt, take that off it looks ridiculous and so on. According to her she's 'letting me experiment'. She can't accept that this is how I choose to look like.

So what if my hair has a few unnatural colors in it and if I prefer heavy rock over rap. They act like it's a sin to be different than them. Considering everyone at school takes time out of their 'busy' lives to tell me how depressing my clothes are and to lighten up in the eyeliner.

"Can't you wear something decent for a change. Like something without a saying or band name. I saw this pretty pink shirt with ruffles on my way to work the other day."

"No mother." I really didn't need this right now.

I walked out and found my shoes on the stairway. I slipped on them on, snatched up my book bag and get in the car while mother finished getting ready. I slipped in my ear buds to drown out the world.

Through out the entire car ride my mother was constantly pulling out my ear buds trying to tell me about how stressful her work is getting and how the company would totally come crashing down if it weren't for her.

"Great mother. You can just drop me off here." I said, motioning to the corner about a three blocks away from my school. I knew mother didn't want to be seen with me so dropping me off here would be best for everyone because her work was in the opposite direction.

"You sure. I can drop you off up at the doors if you want." She said but one look in her eyes you could tell she was begging me to say no.

"It's fine." I mumbled as I jumped out of the car. I barely closed the door before she whipped away from the curb. I slowly started my journey to my person hell.

"Look who decided to show her face. Jess The Mess." Chad, the star quarter back, commented as him and his girlfriend, Julia, the captain of the cheer leading squad, strutted their way over to my locker. Totally cliche. Jess The Mess was the name they decided to give me when I started to express my true self back in middle school.

I quickly shut my locker and walked away with them following me.

I walked in my first period, Art, and let out a sigh of relief as I saw them both pass the doorway. I weaved my way to the back of the class and sat in the farthest corner.

The bell rang and the teacher, Mrs. Peterson. She was a fairly young teacher with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She was one of the few teachers here that actually talked to the students like normal people, including myself. She laughed and joked with us all and even was up to date on all the new slang.

She started to explain the new project. We would be drawing a place that we would one day like to visit, all in pencil. I loved this class, I was free to express myself through the projects and I was thankful I was in very small classes even though everyone ignored my presence with the exception of Mrs. Peterson.

Currently I'm a senior in high school. I was wise and doubled up on all my classes and even took some online. It was difficult but managed to get through all my credits.

The only reason I'm still in this place is because I need my fine arts credits. This year I'm only taking Advanced Portfolio and 3-D Art. That's the only two classes I have for the entire day. They just filled up my whole schedule with study halls. Basically I spend all day in the art room with Mrs. Peterson. I really didn't mind at all.