‘In the end, however, not even Iago’s love towards Othello could save him from his impending punishment, and by loving him too much Iago killed the very man he wished to serve. Perhaps that is the largest irony of all.’
I looked over at the clock just as I finished writing my analysis on Othello and Iago’s possible homosexuality.
4:30 in the morning? ... Fuck. After being in school for sixteen years, the pain of writing yet another carbon copy of an assignment from the previous semester still stung, but still I completed it, much to my own chagrin.
I sighed and painstakingly got up out of the computer chair my body had atrophied in for the last 6 hours, and finally crawled into my freshly made bed.
If there was one good thing about pulling an all-nighter on a Monday morning, it was the fresh bed I had to sleep on, albeit a small consolation for sleep deprivation.
I sat awake for quite a while, surprising considering how long it had been since I last slept, but I couldn’t get the bitterness of the bullshit schooling system out of my head.
It was the same. The same! Every single assignment was yet another iteration in the ongoing series of producing the same paper for different teachers each year, and I was sick and tired of it.
I fell asleep and awoke at the same sound of an alarm only it was… 10:30? I rushed to get up and get ready since there was only 20 minutes left until the bus to the nearest station would arrive at the end of my street.
The disgusting feeling of monotony grew inside me as I brushed my teeth, and didn’t lessen as I scrubbed my tongue or rinsed out my mouth.
I looked into the mirror, my face was clean shaven in contrast with the bags under my eyes. What a shitty reminder that sleep was necessary for living beings. My attempts to comb my brown hair and unruly bangs resulted in failure, so I gave up and swept it above my left eye. I stared harder, looking into the reflection of my own dark-brown gaze.
“Fuck it, I need a change... and I need one badly.” After boarding the bus, I read my 6 page paper in disgust, the mere notion that something that came from your brain needed a set length was particularly a joke to me.
I stuffed the paper in my bag as I walked towards the station, then brought it out once more to recheck it after I sat down on the train.
“JFK/ UMass next.” I barely tore myself away from the monstrosity in my hands to exit the train in time.
The same formula... read a book, pick a lens, write. Read a book, pick a lens, write. Over and over and over again!
I sighed stepping into the crowded bus, the low murmur of a few students chatting made it from the back all the way to the front.
Professors absorbed in only flaunting their own knowledge and sharing their own experiences instead of committing to making the lesson about the students, they make it an expose about themselves... disgusting.
Finally making my way up the stairs to the left of the campus center, I made my way into the McCormack building for yet another dumb and repetitive class on six British authors, because I had foolishly chosen the dying major of English.
You know what? Screw this life. I’m going to do something stupid today. I need to get out of this loop before I break down more than I already have.
I walked into the classroom and immediately felt stares on my person. As was normal from being a loner walking into a creative writing class. Unfortunately, because everyone felt that they had needed to share their most depressing moments through their writing like they were invited to a class pity party, I had come to see them as not always worth my time.
Who wants to wallow in self-pity after all? It disgusted me. It didn’t help matters that I wrote a poem about said feelings, but that’s besides the point. I sat down in my usual seat at the back of the classroom, mostly so when the material itself got too boring, I could see what other students were up to.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Sighing, I pulled out my report one last time and started to read over it before a pair of small, nice-smelling hands covered my eyes. “You’re way too casual with physical contact you know. And how many times do I have to tell you not to spray your hands with that shit? It makes me nauseous.
“Aw. Not even gonna try to guess who I am?”
“We both know you’re the only person who doesn’t avoid me like the plague, Rachel.”
The aforementioned Rachel took her hands off my eyes and swung around to the front of my seat, pretend-pouting. “I wonder what caused you to change like this? It’s like that reserved and kind boy from our freshman year was all a lie.”
That’s because it was. I thought to myself, but didn’t dare breathe it into existence. I had a feeling she knew anyway, given the way she still stuck by as my best friend. “Othello and Iago’s Forbidden Love.” She spoke the title of my research paper out loud.
“Icky. Sounds like a yaoi novel Joshua.” She gave a disapproving look and sat down in her desk next to mine.
“Well,” I started, “When you’re asked to pump out a paper every 2-4 weeks, there’s only so many places you can go with the traditional viewpoints. It might help you to make up with your mom by looking at her perspective… you are still fighting with her, aren’t you?”
I eyed her up and down as I spoke. Suntanned skin fresh from summer break peeked out of her blouse, and fit legs she had gotten from crossfit were brought out even more against the contrast of her white skirt. Her dark brown hair was tied into a single, thick braid that extended down her back. Her prominent nose framed her eyes and mouth perfectly, and amber eyes looked sleepily at the front of the board, where Ms. Strauss was beginning to write our daily plan on the board.
“Fuck, I’m so bored of this…” she trailed off and leaned forward, causing her shapely breasts to rest on the small desk. Before she could catch me I stopped staring, mentally making a note not to forget to masturbate the night before English classes again.
“Yeah, I still am. She’s being a stubborn bitch just for the sake of being a stubborn bitch. She keeps trying to send me to different countries to, ‘broaden my horizons,’ whatever the fuck she thinks she means by that.”
“She’s finally made an appearance - the personality that allows you to get along with someone like me. You really should seek medical help for that.”
“Bite me.” Was her only response. If only she knew…
With that conversation out of the way, class began and we started to read our papers. Needless to say, Rachel probably scored high on the grading scale from her piece comparing Gawain’s exploits to Robin Hood’s mythos, and tying it nicely together with the The Bastard from Shakespeare’s King John.
It was actually really interesting, and the whole class gave a standing ovation. Next was my turn, and I begrudgingly walked to the front of the room. Clearing my throat, I spoke to the best of my abilities. I got a smattering of applause, save for Ms. Strauss who surprisingly gave me a standing ovation. “Brilliant, Joshua! Mind if I recommend you for a shakespearean oration contest coming up?”
Looking at the other student’s look of disgust, I decided this was not the time, place, or occasion. “Ms. Strauss, the presentations aren’t over, right?” Getting my message, the flustered teacher cleared her throat and called up the next student.
After class, Rachel was standing at the door on her smartphone, waiting for me to get lunch together. That feeling of mundaneness started to warp my heart again and I decided I would make my move.
If she accepts, great. If not, I potentially ruin a friendship. At least there’s some change to the monotony either way.
As I approached her I flinched at the smell of her perfume. Due to my sensitive nose, I had never been good at handling the expensive substance. However, that didn’t deter me.
“Rachel.” I called out, causing the young woman to look up.
“What is it Joshua?”
“Will you go out with me?”
The phone slipped out of Rachel’s hands, clacking on the classroom floor and sending more than a few stares our way. A blush overcame her face and a goofy grin found its way onto Rachel’s face.
“Of course! I’m so hap-”
I closed my eyes as a dizzy spell hit me, and when I opened them I was no longer in the classroom, but in a deep violet chamber that seemed to have been made entirely out of velvet.
WARNING. HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT DETECTED. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
“What the fuck?” I heard rustling behind me and turned to see a young woman groggily getting out of her canopy bed. She took a sleepy glance at me, rubbed her eyes and jumped as she must’ve realized I wasn’t a leftover figment of her imagination.
“Well, shit. Listen, I can explain-”
WARNING: YOU HAVE BEEN DETECTED. PREPARE FOR COMBAT.
“Girahn!” The woman called out, and the doors burst open, allowing several guards to come in and surround me. They pointed objects that I could only assume were guns at me, and one shouted, “Flaur bahk! Imn!” I had no idea what he was saying, but the universal language of motioning his gun to the ground was read loud and clear. I put my hands up in the air and kneeled onto the velvety carpet before a guard cracked me over the head with the back end of his weapon.
The last thing I heard before I slammed into unconsciousness was “Ubawael!”