The Thirteenth Piece: The Three Year Storm (Part One)


My first day of middle school was nerve wrecking. I woke up at 6 a.m. and walked to the bathroom only to realise that a huge zit grew overnight on my chin.

This is a disaster.

Kill me.

The first day of sixth grade and I had a zit. I tried to make it disappear. I dabbed a bit of toothpaste on it (my mother once told me it worked) but quickly washed it away when the burning sensationbecame unbearable. Next, I tried to pop it, but only failed and made it worse, so I decided to cover it. I was not expert in make up so I decided to take the low risk choice and just hide it with a small bandage.

Just kill yourself already.

My day was already fucking me over.

I was mentally preparing myself for the first day of middle. I decided that I should continue as I was in fourth and fifth grade, socialize and fit it. I wanted school to be a distraction from the reality that haunted me at the house. I wanted to be normal, but there is so much one can do to prepare. In the end, LIFE loves to punch and kick you around.

Our house wasn’t far from my middle school. It was located in front of my former elementary school and about an eight minute walk from our house. On that day, eight minutes felt like hours. The closer I got to school, the more anxious I would become. I had to constantly stop to balance my beathing and take momens to relax. Surprisingly, I arrived in one piece and headed to the gymnasium. I walked in and saw the crowds of kids.


Don’t stare so much.

I clenched my hand infront of me, avoided eye and physical contact and headed to the wall mat. I leaned on the wall and released a long, silent exhale. I didn’t realise I wasn’t breathing until I leaned on that wall. I stared and floor and listened to the laughters, screams, and talking around me.

I need to leave already.

My first day was already heading downhill.

I didn’t recognise how much time passed until the gymnasium was half empty. Everyone was heading to their homerooms. I quickly picked up my backpack from the floor and searched for my homeroom. It took me longer than usual to find it. By the time I arrived most of the seats were filled. I looked around nervously and found a desk in the middle of the room and quickly sat down. I placed my bag infront of me and sat in silence until the teacher came in. Nearly everyone in the classroom had made a friend, except for myself and another kid. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone. I was anxious. I was afraid.

What if they stare ar your bandage?

What if they don’t want to talk to you?

What if I talk too much?

What if they ask too many questions?

The CONS were endless, so I just gave up.

The months that followed had it’s nice outcomes; I was able to make a few friends, go to a couple school dances, exhange friendly letters, etc. As much as I tried, I still felt distance between me and everyone else. I think it was just the fact that I always had my mask on even when I was with friends. I felt safe. If they tried to ask questions, I avoided them or just gave vague answers. Friends were temporary for me, because I was too afraid to put down my mask and just say This is me.

My personality took a darker turn after my visit to the assistant principal’s office.

My need to fill the aching void that dwelled within me increased and transitioned to my second year of middle school.

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