Life Sucks

Life Sucks

This is a story about my life. I say that but there isn’t much to tell. Let’s see, I’m in my junior year of high school and people don’t like me very much. I don’t have a girlfriend… heck I don’t even have a friend. I have below average height and weight and I’m weak as a stick. Do you know what happens to unpopular tiny weak boys in high school? I do. They get picked on by the everyone: guys, girls, guys who have girlfriends, bitchy whores, skinny guys, athletic big dudes, fat people that think they’re athletic but they’re just fat… yeah that’s about everyone – well, everyone who I notice anyways.

It’s not just the kids who are mean; the teachers don’t seem to like me very much either. Maybe it’s because I snore pretty loud in their class. It’s not my fault I snore! I blame my parents for giving me genes that form my small nasal passage. I remember one time a teacher woke me up and made me answer a question. Boy, I had no earthly idea what he was talking about and told him just that. I wonder why he got so angry; I thought honesty was a good thing. Heck I should have been the one that’s angry; he was the one that disturbed my sleep!

After being kicked out of class, people notice you more, but not in a good way. I remember that day a fat ugly dude tried to ridicule me for being kicked out of class. I think he was from some European country and had the strongest accent I’ve ever heard. I remember thinking “Is this talking bacon even speaking English?”

I could have sworn that I was only thinking that but apparently I said it out loud and was beaten up quite immediately. When you’re unpopular and speak in metaphoric truths, people don’t have much sympathy for you. Trust me, I would know.

What can I say? The world hates me!

Just like any other day, I’m walking to school and thinking about how crappy this life is. But today’s different. I’m fed up. I close my eyes and scream “C’mon world! Give me your worst!”

My declaration of challenge to the world was interrupted by car horns and tires screeching. I open my eyes and see a car heading straight in my direction not 5 meters away.

You know how they say your life flashes before you when you’re about to die? It’s true. But hell it was a horror movie for me. I saw the distinct faces of at least 15 different guys who have punched me in face. I don’t know what was worse, reliving the memories of being beaten up, or facing the fact that a car is about to run me over. This is probably normal human instinct, but my entire body froze up and could not move except for my right hand raising itself in front of my face and sticking my middle finger to my grim reaper in a car. What a way to go!

What happens after? How am I telling this story? Who knows? It doesn’t matter though. This is just a story about me, a fictional character who doesn’t even have a name. There is a lesson to be learned from my story: if you ever decide to scream bloody murders at the world, make sure you’re not standing in the middle of the road.