ring pops and cigs

11

our math teacher was drawling on in a monotone once again. usually i'd focus, seeing as math is actually quite engaging most of the time, but it was such a drag today. i had already learned this topic last year, so i found myself doodling eyes in my journal.

i never draw a full face in my doodles-perhaps sketch some clothes or do a slight side profile, but never a full on face. the lines always came out wrong and the proportioning was weird. the lips were too big or the nose too small, the eyes too small or too wide.

separately, they'd be gorgeous. together, they were a mess.

after sketching some random outfits-always exaggerated figures, but complete with "flaws". whether it be a hip dip or saggy tits, i always tried including something to make the figure look more life like. everyone always wants to stand out, but the flaws scattered around their physical and mental appearance like wildflowers are always plucked and weeded out; flaws are only flaws because of social norms and picky minds.

it was annoying. they want to be different, but they all try molding to the same shell. whoever 'they' are.

sighing, i set down my pencil and crack my knuckles. my fingers ache from clutching my pencil. i stretch my hand up to the sky, deciding it was time for a nice old walk.

after the teacher calls on me, and dismisses me out of the class for my "last bathroom break of the year" and "expects me to be back in 10 minutes." (which i don't understand; yeah, sometimes i don't come back from the bathroom in time for the next few periods. maybe i just had to take a long dump because of the shitty school food? maybe i got tired of squatting and accidentally fell into the shit infested toilet?)

i wander out into the halls, nose scrunching up from my orders. my fingers run over the crevices of every locker i pass. i decide to go to the other bathroom across the school, and start formulating my excuse. i could say that the bathroom was all occupied.

then i stop myself mid thought. why should i make an excuse? it's not like i need an alibi for fucking everything.

on second thought...

i sigh. lying shouldn't be as easy as it is to me. i try stopping myself as often as i can, because if i don't care what other people think, why should i lie? it's so much work.

lying is kinda fun, though. the process of formulating a web of lies that are believable is a process that can occupy a mind for as long as you want it to. it's a good time pass.

my monologue with myself is stopped, seeing as my ears has picked up on a noise that halted every thought other than a series of awestruck.

the male-i assumed, as the voice had a deep tenor- had a voice that was entwined with an angel's tears; golden streaks tumbling down a radiant persona-an amber agony that was so beautiful to look at, but so painful to feel.

it was bittersweet, like cherries. it reminded me of the radiant days of mid-may where all the school kids buzzed in a pre-summer paradise only known to those with shoulders worn down with book bags contained more than what a locker should; i was reminded of a specific memory where my feet dangled from the swing set, eyes set upwards toward the (blue) sky, eyebrows furrowed from the bright sun rays. a cherry was captured between my teeth, the stem flat against my bottom lip as the juice dripped down my chin. i remember how my lips were stained a dark maroon, and my fingertips a light pink. it was eighth grade, and the school year was almost over. i wouldn't see half of those kids ever again; the kids i spent almost a decade with. it's been two years, and i still haven't seen most of them.

my feet had carried me towards the sound almost subconsciously, and i found myself scared to even enter the room. it would disturb the setting, frighten the air molecules surrounding, and disrupt the sound. i couldn't risk it.

my eyes closed, and i leaned my head against the door post. i could barely hear the lyrics, only the somber yet grateful tones that reverberated throughout the room, accompanied by a soft piano.

i couldn't tell if i wanted to put a name to the sound. whether i'd regret it or not. half of me wanted to let the sound weave it's own beautiful tales without the hassle of knowing who it was. the rest wanted to who it was-to put a face to the sound, a name to the face, and maybe even the story to the name.

i gnawed my lip, cracking my knuckles. would i regret not seeing, or regret finding out?

"hello?"

my eyes widened, my gaze cast upon the boy that had peeked out in front of me. the first thing i saw was black. a cocoa so dark that it almost couldn't be defined as brown; like the midnight sky, but lacking the stars. big lips, crystal white teeth, a series of curls styled into spikes that resembled goku's once he went super saiyan. my eyes captured his, and i found where the stars were. instead of scattered across in bundles, every star clumped together to give it the light reflecting behind his eyes. he looked so-

"matthias?"