Two Introverts ✔

7 | Cry

As he looked around his class, he caught sight of Charles who was so concentrated in what he was doing. He instantly looked away as guilt and anxiety took over. He'd totally forgotten about the encounter they'd had just the previous day. And now that he was reminded of it, he wanted to apologize so badly. Charles was definitely a good guy - Sam had seen him with his friends many times before and also noticed that he, just like Sam, was a rather reserved person. He didn't poke his nose where it didn't belong and he didn't unnecessarily go around gossiping. At one point, he even thought they both would make great friends. Now, sadly, that opportunity was ruined because of him. Even if they couldn't be friends, Sam knew he owed him an apology. Maybe I'll talk to June about this, he'd definitely agree, he thought. Right then, the bell rang. Math period had started.

* * *

Samuel was beyond happy to hear that they weren't receiving their math marks. He would be prepared enough for it the next day. June was still nowhere to be seen. Sam felt lonely without him. He didn't share even one class with June, but they would always walk together in the corridors and talk about the most random things in the small five-minute break they had. June would always tell him beforehand if he wasn't attending school, so this was unusual of him. More than angry, he was worried as to why June took his day off. Especially when it was "answer sheet day." Sighing again, he went into his next class - Physics. If Sam had to admit, he'd say he was pretty bad at the subject. The thing with him was, he loved to learn about things, loved studying subjects of his interest, but nothing stayed inside his head for long due to lack of concentration. He would get distracted by anything and everything - from a small fly in his room to a large cat fighting for food outside his house. He didn't know what to do about it.

Shutting his thoughts off, Sam decided not to think anymore since he had a lot more to worry about at the moment. He saw his teacher making her way into the class with a bunch of sheets in her hand. Beads of sweat formed on Sam's forehead, his hands got clammy and his heart started hammering against his chest. He wasn't ready, not in the least. If he was scared to write exams, then he was absolutely terrified of his marks. His parents have repeatedly told him how marks could literally define a person, how they could change one's entire life. Sam himself knew the importance of education; no matter how useless he thought some things were sometimes, he knew that in order to survive the world, he needed to be educated. He needed to be somewhere near the top, if not at the top. Alas, Sam's brain wasn't cooperating with him for the past few years. He had noticeably gone down - he used to be with the top students in his younger grades, but now, he'd gone down to those who were average. He was just an average now.

"Sam," the teacher called out to him, "come collect your answer sheet."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Samuel got up and went near the teacher to collect his sheet. He could already feel the tears filling his eyes and he hadn't even seen his marks yet. He had worked hard for this, this was the test they'd had before their second semester started. He'd put in as much as he could, albeit at the last minute, and at that moment, he didn't think he could bear it if he saw something lesser than what he'd expected.

He held his answer sheet close to him as he walked away from the teacher and back to his seat. For a good ten seconds, he sat in the same position, not moving an inch. His partner gave him a weird look and said, "Why do you look so tense? I'm pretty sure you've done well. Come on, look at it."

Maybe she was right. He didn't have to be so tense, he would've done well. Yet, he didn't have the courage to look at it. He set it aside and decided to see it later, maybe during lunch. He would tell the rest of his friends that he had some work and would stay back in class and have a look at it when no one would be around.

"No, I-I'll... look at it later. Thanks for saying that," he told Julie, his partner.

"Okay, whatever suits you. But don't be sad even if you didn't do well, it's just one test. You'll ace the next one, I'm sure!"

Sam could see she was trying to make him feel better. He wished people weren't so kind towards him, he didn't do anything to deserve it. All he did was mop around in self-pity and trash himself for the most random things. And when things didn't go his way, he'd do the most cliché thing - cry. He had to change himself, but he couldn't even think of where to start from.

* * *

In what seemed like a matter of seconds, it was lunch and Sam found himself alone in his next class, English, with his paper in hand. He knew stalling wasn't going to help, but he was totally apprehensive. Calming his heart down, he took out the sheet and kept it on his desk, the last sheet on top. He could see through it - the red marks that were all over. Slowly, he opened the paper and his last sheet - which had his answers to the questions with more marks - had a big cross. His already hammering heart accelerated, he didn't think he could breathe. Sam saw his paper fully, again and again, his eyesight blurring every next time, calculating his total a hundred times to see if it really was that low. He shouldn't have expected anything from himself. He was destined to let people down, he was destined to fail. He couldn't even meet his own expectations - how pathetic was that? 

As tears took over him, Sam sobbed hard into his hoodie, not knowing how to face his parents. He didn't know what he'd tell them, what they would tell him, how much it would hurt. He'd wanted to make his parents really proud. He wanted to prove that yes, he was capable of something. Something. He wasn't good at sports, he wasn't good at any form of art, he wasn't good at studies, he wasn't good at talking, he wasn't- he was a nobody. He was an example set to the world for people to see how they shouldn't be. 

He thought of the endless times his father looked at him with kind eyes and told him to work harder. He thought of the times his parents would be so delighted and proud to see how Kat, is younger sister, had gotten the top marks of her class. He thought about the number of times his parents shouted at him, yelled, talked, comforted, encouraged and stood by his side, always hoping the best for him. He thought of the times he'd be watching a useless video on YouTube instead of studying. He thought of the number of times he simply wasted the time he had, doing things that could easily be saved for later. As he thought, he cried more, his throat hurting, his head pounding and his heart heavy. He was just an insecure, worthless, invisible boy who was good for nothing but make the people around him more miserable. 

He didn't know how much time he spent there, alone inside that big class. At that moment, he felt extremely small. Smaller than he had ever felt before. He wished June was with him. He would've known exactly what to say to make Sam feel better. But, at the same time, he thought it was better this way - he didn't deserve the words June would say to him. No matter what June would say, Sam was sure he knew what he was worth - nothing. 

Like a distant echo, Sam could hear the words June would say to him at times:

Self-loathing isn't getting you anywhere, Sammy. 

He's right. I don't know where the hell I am now. 

* * *