ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ ғɪɴɢᴇʀᴛɪᴘs

ɪ'ᴍ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴsᴀɴᴇ.

Day 162.

         — It was around the first semester of the  male's sophomore year. He wasn't simply, ' antisocial '. Though, he did talk to people, even if they wouldn't stay around. A small,  " Hey, Ben! "  would pop about, maybe lighten some conversation or whatnot, but there weren't any ' friends '. 
The bell would  ring, Ben being in the middle of rummaging through his scrappy, unorganized locker.  Of course it took place in the bottom row.  The top being, this beautiful, curvy, Hispanic female.  She had the body of a model,, her thighs bigger than her personality.  Her breasts, plump and ready for any man to devour.  Ben being, a very unpredictable male.  His strengths were a surprise if ever shown.  His greasy, dark brunet hair and sweaty face didn't give him the best offering towards women. The douche, Zachary, on the other hand— tanned, muscular, a man to drool for. Hell, even he would call him ' Daddy '. Not on his bucket list, either way. What ᴡᴀs on there was passing grade 10. Meaning, he'd better haul ass.
The male dashed to class, he breaths heavy, his poorly taken care of teeth clenched. His pupils dilated, his silvery- blue irises surrounding them. Running as fast as Ben was brought an aching pain to his lungs. All of his hard work bringing him to slam the wooden door open, his chemistry professor giving him an eery look. He was taking role at the moment, thus having counted Ben as late. Sitting down was a relief. And now, the long, 2 hour class started. During this slow hour, Benjamin would write harsh insults directed towards absolutely nobody with his dark pen, against his ivory white paper. At one point, he just about broke the utensil, pressing down and allowing ink to splatter all over the page. This was the first fuck up of the day.
The rest of the yawn- inducing 8 hours rolled by, as the children load up onto the school- bus. The rest of them slamming their car doors.  It was peaceful, everyone minding their own business before a glass- breaking scream escalated from a female.  " MY FINGER! " she'd wail out. Everyone's heads jerked towards her direction— which being the back of the bus. Ben's eyebrows furrowed, his orbs forwarding to a small paper-cut on her fingertip. A few sighed, her friend's offering aid. This didn't amuse Ben. She was overreacting to something so small. The people in today's society, with their perfect bodies, stereotypes, and whatever caught someone's eye.