I can’t stand the smell of this place. I hate the sounds and the taste of the air and the sight of it and the constant brush of your shoulder as people walk by you. It’s suffocating in the worst way possible. I’m buried six feet under teenage angst and self-pity and the weight of it all is crushing me down into the pieces of paper we stick under wobbly desks. High school is the land of the emotionally disturbed children you’ve known most of your life and can’t seem to get rid of. The place stinks of insecurities and fear, but nobody can bring themselves to really admit it. High school has been labeled as the place that holds in all of the screwed up crap everybody thinks, but never spews out of their mouths.
That’s probably why people hate it so much. All it’s really remembered as is this place you were forced to go to everyday which only added to the amount of pressure that was already being put on your barely developed shoulders. Half the time, I can’t tell if I’m in a good mood or a bad mood and I don’t know if it’s from the hormones or a screwed up personality. Teenagers have this thing where they’re told that everyone is going through or has gone through the same thing at their age, but they never believe it. There’s this kind of self-centered attitude that makes them believe that their problems are completely unique and original, even if reality decides to pay them a visit with a kick in the gut and slap in the face.
A bunch of the time I compare them to Chihuahuas. They’re about fifty percent hate and fifty percent tremble. They lash out and act violently because they’re too scared and confused to do anything else. High school is like kitchen they’re confined to when they’ve done something bad or when their temperaments have gotten out of hand. It even has the beautiful smell of piss and bloody torture.
Of course, I’m talking like I’m not one myself. I am one of those pitiful suckers, but I’m trying to be as objective as possible.
Originally appeared in the 2013-2014 edition of Outside In