October 18

As I had told Nathan yesterday, I was here, a little light headed but present and well enough to stay focused besides the resulting concussion that took a while to take affect that day. I sat in my usual seat, read my books while listening to the teacher with an attentive ear and a false conviction due to me already knowing the subject. Functions and English, I’m already ahead in both subjects after many hours of studying three hours a night every night for the past two years.

It took a while for me to grasp the English language, me being from Austria, it took a bit longer than people told me it would. But now I can speak as fluently as a native speaker, withholding judgment and different people opinions. The main reason that includes my feeling that I am speaking English well enough is that now no one corrects me or goes out of their way to correct my speech. I know that some words I use when writing or speaking could be construed as extravagant or unnecessary in the way in terms where the word could be shorter, it just comes easier to me. I am sure some can agree and some do not agree.

Moving on, I was sitting in class reading a book I had recently bought from the aforementioned art store down the road while internally counting down the seconds until the bell rings and I can eat my lunch, and make an attempt to respond to Nathan. The clock above the empty preface of a white board in the front of the room seemed as if it didn’t even tick, as if the whole portion of space time lording over the classroom has seized to move.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I felt almost on the brink of disappearing from how much I tried to force myself to make time move in my mind. Then as if luck was on my side, the loud sound that signifies that our break time has started had begun to ring and I was able to make the attempt to climb the stairs that led to the roof.

I walked down the east end hall, which was eerily empty even though everyone is allowed to roam at their leisure, on my way to the east staircase. As I was climbing the stairs, I don’t believe I have ever clutched anything as tightly as I had that cold railing. My knuckles were stark white and had a burning sensation as I reached for the door handle that led to the roof.

My immediate vision was blurred almost completely as the afternoon sun had begun to slowly make its way along its usual route. As I slowly started to gain my sight back, what I saw next was not a greeting from one friend to another, but a mistake that I had stumbled upon. It might have been the last time that I could have been able to rationalize anything as a mistake.