Typecasted For Life

The world takes exactly 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4 seconds to make a complete rotation. I waste six and half of those hours in a classroom. Sometimes I just wish I could be learning something cool, like spend all our time researching space facts or have a field trip to NASA headquarters. It would be fun to show everybody how interesting it all is, and it would finally be something that could get me to hold out a steady flowing conversation. Which for me, is needed direly.

I don’t really enjoy talking that much, I feel bad talking about filler stuff like weather or sports. I don’t find it interesting, and if they do, they’ll probably be bored with my lack of knowledge. This quietness of mine is an easy target for teachers.

“Quintin Agnew,” My algebra teacher Mr Hawthorne says, satisfying his need to call us by our first and last names. “Why don’t you answer this for us?”

Attention is brought on me, and impending eyes gawk all around me. I adjust my slumped down posture, my mind was only half listening, but I restrain myself from being too embarrassed. I wasn’t completely lost in the clouds, I could bullshit a simple answer, but I decide not to. “I don’t know what we’re talking about,” I say directly. He grumbles lowly and tells me to sharpen up and pay attention before calling on someone in the front and resuming with the lesson.

That has played a lot over the years, and it hasn’t always been to little effect. I used to be a huge nerd in elementary school, and I was the worst kind too: the ass kisser. Sweet talking, playful banter with the teacher, all of it was unironic. When the teacher caught me in a moment of weakness, I blushed bright red and started sweating profusely as scattered giggles encased my surroundings. Around fifth grade is when I stopped caring as much, although the slow journey to high school wore that down even further.

I do my best in schoolwork, but not in class. I don’t like sitting still and I don’t like when teachers pad out lessons to make them longer. I have the basic information and that helps me cruise along just fine, yet they refuse to stop it there. I do my homework and I don’t cause any scenes, and I do my best to keep the shit talking in my head. That’s worth something to me.

The bell rings out (it’s not an actual bell, more like a cry for help condensed into morse code) and that sends my ass to lunch. I shove my things into my locker and head downstairs to the commons area, which doubles as the lunchroom.

I get my lunch and walk to my usual table which is much like the other tables, long and rectangular and unflatteringly shiny. I sit down in my usual seat, and people begin to steadily fill in the seats around me. I don’t really have friends, these people just don’t care I sit near them. The long tables help with that, lots of room to rearrange and such if I’m in the way of their friend group all sitting in a line.

Being lonely is shitty honestly. I hate it, but I don’t want to mope around. I don’t talk much, people see me with people, they assume the best of me. Who am I to take that away, that would just make me a self-centred asshole, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s assholes.

Drama club (which is starting after school today) is one thing that A) promises me something more than simplicity and B) isn’t completely dumb. I always look forward to it. I really only engage with the people that my character interacts with, so usually, it’s only or two chorus members that I grow semi close to. It never really goes very far, but the company is something that nobody can take away. Except for God, if there even is one. The universe, maybe. The universe loves taking that away, and it does it in the worst way possible: passive aggressively.

Teasing and prodding at me with the string of hope dangling in front of my pasty ass face. I try to grab it, but it’s pulled away at the last second. I try and try, but sometimes I can’t play games forever. Nobody can. Wild animals know this very well, it should be killing things and don’t get killed yourself. You can’t dance around and pretend things are okay if you have one little insignificant thing. That’s how I feel friendships are for me.

Sure, I have fun. It’s nice and comfortable and cool. But if after drama club is over and things calm down, the post-show loneliness fades, and the dust is cleared, what is left? The friends I saw mostly at drama club and nowhere else...we have no bond. I try to find them around, try to find any social media. But if the universe gives me the middle finger, I might as well to the same thing to our bond. They clearly didn’t try and so I have learned not to either. Sad story...but it’s my story. Welcome to the start of it.