Chapter Text
(POV: SILVER)
I walk through the halls, wary of the people surrounding me. My eyes shift back and forth, looking at all these people. It’s terrific, really. Terrific as in amazing, and terrific as in terrifying. I pretend not to notice as someone wearing his(?) assembly uniform bumps into me and yells, “Watch where you’re going, kid!”. I hurry away, tightening my ponytail. Since when did so many people around my age exist? This is stupid. I walk off towards my homeroom. So much for. . . anything, really. Do these people even know who I am used to be? I shudder at the thought that they might. Everyone’s eyes stare through my skin, through my flesh, through my bones, through my soul. What were they looking at by then? What were they looking FOR?
X日 X月 XX年
Dear Diary. . .
I never knew school would be this. . . exhausting. My head started to hurt a few seconds in. How are we supposed to go through this every day? Although, I’m sure if you were weaned onto this from an early age, you’d be numb by now. But I wasn’t.
I’m disappointed in myself. Why don’t I have any friends? Why do I start forgetting how to speak when teachers call on me? Why am I so bad at everything??? Especially PE. . . that was supposed to be the “easy” class. Easy for them to say it was easy, maybe. I’m okay at running, but anything that involves more coordination than that? I’m out. This is too much. I’ll become numb to it eventually, but eventually means “in a while”, so let’s not get our hopes up.
-Silver
I repeat this routine every day: wake up at 6 am (too early), brush my teeth and hair (occasionally with the same brush), get dressed in my mealtime uniform, go downstairs and eat the school’s “food”, change into my assembly uniform and sit outside on the cold pavement for half an hour, change into P. E. uniform for morning activity hour, get changed again (I swear to god, why do we have so many uniforms?) to go to my academic classes, eat sit and do homework that “I should’ve done last night” (very funny) during lunch, go to more academic classes, do the “non-academic” (read: made to fill time and make sure the school doesn’t get sued) classes, go to dinner and not touch the food, go to Evening Study Session, brush my teeth and hair (occasionally with the same brush), and go to sleep at 10 pm. Almost no variation for two whole years. I felt like I aged several decades over their course. At the very least, I got better at some stuff. . . I guess? I couldn’t really tell. Thinking back to it, a lot of stuff has become easier, but it’s not like I could tell without thinking back to it.
Y日 Y月 XX+2年
Dear Diary:
Today, at the morning assembly, Mr. Romiero (the head of the Seventh Grade Dept. , in case you forgot) mentioned that there would be a new student. I’m a bit excited because this’ll be a first in a few ways. This hasn’t happened since. . . well, since I was new. So that’s cool.
- Silver