10:38 P.M.
People WILL believe anything they want to believe...
Just give them a lead and they will add on to the story....
Like a story about an accident, where some kid falls off his skateboard...Where he was cut up pretty badly.
The first time he tells the story he had 11 stitches, and a few bumps and bruises....give him two weeks and the story takes a whole new turn. All of a sudden he has 180 stitches and he can tell you how he barely made it out of a coma....
Right, he fell off his damn skateboard.....into the grass for that matter Right....
The funny part of his story is that since he fell into the grass he didn't even get stitches, he just added that in at first to get Rebecca in his English class to notice him....
You would never really know he was lying unless you were there to see the accident...or maybe you took the time to notice that he may have fallen 2 weeks ago, but he still has no scars...He's healed up quite nicely for a guy who had so many stitches.....sure....right..
I can think back to school.
Rumors were harsh. I hardly liked school in the first place.
I brought my Walkman to science class and sat in the back of the room. I tried to be invisible, but people still found so much to talk about....
I would go to Spanish occasionally, but the majority of the time I would just sleep in until the interesting classes started...
Usually the only time I would hit one class, there had to be a substitute. Substitutes usually meant movies, movies meant less hassles...
Even when I went to class, I rarely worked on school work. I would listen to music, I would draw, I would write. I wrote oodles, and oodles of poetry. Endless words, on countless subjects, in every feature and form I could captivate with pencil and paper....I would doodle along the borders of every assignment that I actually turned in for class credit..
I had thoughts but they didn't focus on how many times the earth turns in any given year, or how long it would take a bird to travel 33.5 miles if it were moving at 2 miles per hour....
I couldn't care less about that stuff
I remember one day I actually showed up for Spanish class. It was the first time in 4 days and I just did NOT want to be there. I knew I was going to fail and deep down it bothered me, but I felt so hopeless. I knew that there was no amount of extra credit I could turn in to help my grade. I put my head on the desk and fell into a deep sleep.... I felt someone brush my hair out of my face. I was in a deep daze. "Honey, are you alright?"
Even though I had stayed home and I had spent the days sleeping I wasn't "resting" I had a lot of nightmares....
I woke up and the classroom was empty. My teacher said that I had been summoned....
I was so caught off guard...I was like, "yeah, whatever."
I got up, grabbed my books and tried to head to my next class. As soon as I walked in, I was sent up to the office where my guidance counselor had told me that she knew what was going on and there was no use hiding it....
I had NO clue what she was talking about. I had a perfectly good excuse for missing all that class...I had doctors notes saying that my asthma was bad this time of year, and they had no real reason not to excuse my absences....
She went on to say, "your teachers have had a meeting, just yesterday, as soon as they heard. Your Spanish teacher is very worried about you. She is concerned, and she agrees with the prior statement from your best friend..."
I had no clue what she was talking about
She told me that there is help and that I should not give up.
She avoided telling me what she knew about me, and she refused to tell me who was saying "things" about me...
She sent me back to class and told me not to worry.... "Things are about to get much better for you, Please, please take care of yourself."
Later that day I was told by one of my teachers that one of my closest friends had gone to the office to tell them I was anorexic bulimic...My so called friend also went on to insist that I was suicidal...
Just because I hated school.... Not just school, but the rumors...the a$$ hole rumors...
I couldn't believe it, no way in hell.
I didn't bother to defend myself. I was so tired that I didn't care. I was so tired of rumors that I didn't try to prove anyone wrong....
Then he told me that he didn't believe it, he thought that deep down my friend was the one with the problem. She had a problem with her own reality and she felt that creating a reality that was worse for me would help her deal with hers. I never knew what he meant until I had the chance to watch her do it again and again....
Pathetic really....
After the rumor was passed around there was no turning back.
I remember, my math teacher, He felt so damn sorry for me.
That wasn't really the first time I didn't stick up for myself. Rumors followed me around ever since I started school.
But it may have been the first time I let it go. I tried to tell myself that since there wasn't a single grain of truth in her statement people would soon realize she was a complete flake....
I don't know if other people figured it out.... I�m not sure,....but It didn't stop. It wasn't the last time that rumors were started....
After that rumor there was a series of them to follow...
I remember Wes�� Wesley and his big fat mouth� Told everyone and their grandmother that we hooked up. He was on a one-way track to making himself one of the biggest mistakes of my life�
He created his own rumors to ruin any hope for a friendship.�.
The glances I would get in the hallway where all the guys would seem like they were undressing me with their eyes�.
Nothing is like it seems in high school�.It was sooo many years ago, but so much still hasn�t changed�
Some people never change..
I think about the other rumors�.The ones about how I had picked a fight with some loser in gym class....Or how girls told guys I was gay....Or that I was a crack head�. Or that I shopped at KMART, or good will to make themselves feel better...
Who gives a damn where I shop?
I've been out of school for a long time now and I still hear false rumors about myself every once in a while....
I usually don't get as hurt as I did when I was younger...I don't take them so literally, or run to the bathroom to cry or throw a fit...
I try to laugh.
Or come back with some sort of witty comment...
People will believe what ever they want to believe. And the rumors just reinforce their damn conniving words...You can't change them...Or at least I never could...
I try not to believe anything unless I am there, at that moment when that one special moment actually takes place...
Everyone has a story....
Maybe THAT in itself is what makes me so skeptical�
