After looking up the meaning of the word Obtuse, my mind felt subjected to some kind of humiliation ritual. I knew Amanda saw me as this inept student but to birth me with such a degrading adjective? That seemed a bit extreme. I mean, it's really not my fault that I have trouble retaining vital educational information, or any information that is deemed as 'important'. Obtuse? Am I really obtuse? Judging me solely on my academic performance is a shallow way to go Amanda. I'm pretty sure I could hold a perfectly decent and mentally stimulating conversation with her, over a cup of coffee - well, maybe not coffee per say since coffee isn't exactly my type of go to drink. It tastes weird. Bitter and disgusting. I don't understand why anyone would want to subject their taste buds to the inconceivable taste of coffee. It is an acquired taste anyway. My dad once told my mom that I was an acquired taste. At the moment I didn't know what he meant by that. I actually received it as a complime

The picture spread like fucking wildfire devouring a sea of dry hay. By the time I got back home and climbed up my bedroom window, the Instagram picture had already accumulated over 50k likes! The comments were massively negative and degrading with the viral hashtags of #CharliCharityCase and #MaxDoin'CharityWork. I don't bother to take my shoes off as I drop onto my bed , my back fusing with the springy mattress underneath me, phone held above my face as I thumbed up my phone screen, unable to look away from the Instagram post.Another like, and another, and another....over 20 more likes and it just kept going! Next week was probably going to be one for the history books. Maybe I should plot my demise before Monday comes, maybe I should drink a glass of toilet water in hopes that it would get me ill, that way I get to miss school. But for how long can I fake being sick? I scroll back to the image, the undebatable picture of Charli kissing me. The way her hands had grasped against my

" God, you look like you got hit by a make up truck!" Roxie doesn't hesitate to throw a sharp punch on my shoulder at the insensitive comment aimed at her lack of make up applying skills. Honestly, even a clown make up was far more impressive that whatever she had on her face, in the name of make up. " And you look like you buy your clothes at the school's lost and found section," Her pathetically drawn eyebrows shoot up, seemingly impressed by her below average insult at my clothing option of a sky blue button down shirt that was well tucked in inside my brown khakis, black loafers snugged under my feet, no socks because my pigs were sweating like mushrooms. " Hey!" Mom shouts from above the stairs, putting on her golden loop earrings on her left earlobe, gingerly descending down the flight of stairs. " no fighting tonight. Or else I'll be forced to ground both your asses till you graduate." Once she reaches the last staircase, she takes one look at both of us, a halfhearted smil

" Vagina or Dick?" That was today's topic of heated discussion amongst our friend group. You'd think we'd have better things to discuss, you know, stuff like Global warming and its causes or how we could stop it, or Increased inflation rate and how it's affected our economy,or high costs of living or how Joe Biden is slowly ruining America but after an hour of weed smoking, our brains fried, we chose to discuss the reproductive systems; because why not? Which is the better one? Why is it better than the other one and all that nonsense. The back building was like our little oasis, cloistering us from the good kids. We were the school's degenerate gang and mixing the good fruits with the rotten ones guaranteed a possible epidemic of decaying students. So we separated ourselves from the good harvest, sprawled out in the grass behind the back building, Tyson rolled up a joint and passed it around while Emerald chugged down the alcohol she snuck to school this morning. After ten puffs

When you're high, everything around you seems...magical!The walls are breathing, boasting with purple and pink glittery showers on their surface and the ground feels like marshmallow, if that makes any sense. Of course, it doesn't , taking it in retrospect seeing as I am stoned right now and my visual imagery in this current state might not be any way sensible. But here I am, recovering from that highly coveted state by any addict undergoing drug withdrawals, as I gulp down as much water to get rid of this cotton-y feeling inside my mouth. Two tall glasses of water down.Everything is still, the sound of the quiet kitchen providing the perfect ambience to any horror movie. I hate that I'm standing right here, alone, in the dark and the paranoid soul inside my body is begging for me to just bolt back upstairs and hide under my bulky beddings because it swears it heard something rustling outside the kitchen window. I don't do that , though. I'm not really scared of the darkness. Nob