The Classroom Chronicles

Wading into the classroom. Wednesday, 13th June, 2018. School uniform a bit too tight, My body pressed against the metal zipper, Exaggerating my jolly build. Blasts of crisp, cold air, Hitting my heat rash-stricken face. A little discomfort, I felt it. But not unbearable. The older kids in my class then, Not nearly as academically proficient as I was. They beckoned me to them, With plastic grins and class notes. But I could see the assignment. The one from the day before. Blank in their books. It didn't faze me. I was used to it anyways. I always believed, That maybe if I helped them with their work, They would stop the hurtful gossip at break time. I may not have been the most adept speaker, But I wasn't deaf. I could hear their snarky comments, Followed by sharing snacks and playing games. They passed marshmallows at break time, The awfully sweet scent flicking all the wrong switches, Nauseating me. I was allergic after all. I wouldn't dare ask for one. But the SMELL... I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get through break time, Inhaling that. One of them snickered, throwing a half eaten one, To my way. I COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Bolting to the restroom as fast, As my sub-athletic body could carry me, I began to throw up in the sink. The bitter taste of my regurgitated homemade lunch, Fuelling my dwindling nausea. More laughter. More taunting words. More isolation. God, why couldn't I be normal? Classes ended for that day. I was finally going home. Happier that way. Dreading every day in that classroom wasn't really a skill, When I had tried and tried, and lost my will.