It’s 1:20 pm and I can’t stop thinking about what I ate last or if I should eat again, and I can’t help but feel like it’s not fair that everything I want to be and everything I want to do depends on how well I do right now, in this class room.
But it’s 1:23 pm, and my teacher is trying to get me to pay attention, but all I can think about is the size of my legs when I sit down, and how the dimple on my chin sticks out when I smile, and what my friends would do, if they found out that it’s 1:30 pm, and the last thing I ate was half a popcorn bag the night before the last, and I’d hope they’d understand why I do this, and I’d hope they’d understand that it’s 1:34 pm, and I want to ask to leave, and find 40 cents to make my stomach stop growling, but I would rather be dead than a thought in someone’s mind thinking “she’s gained weight”, or to heavy for the boy I crave to carry me down the hall.
It’s 1:40 pm, on February 6th, 2014, and I should be thinking about the answer to the problem on the board, or when I should turn in my 7 late assignments.
But it’s 1:53 pm, and I want to tear through my skin and run away.
But that’s the bell, and I have to go.