'Sitting in the classroom slowly dying from the now inability to hear simple thoughts that come into my head. Who ever thought that these people around me could be classed as human is not human themselves. I want out, no easier way to put it, I want out! I can't cope anymore; it's beyond help, slurs and threats thrown towards me, just for being different. No real reason but an act of discrimination for no better reason than they get bored when walking in the corridor between classes. Sometimes hell looks a lot more pleasing than the school gates ...'
Writing that diary had, and would always be a bad idea, whenever I get down or stressed I read it. It reminds me that sometime in the past I felt worse than I did at the current time, I always thought it was a good idea to be reminded of that but afterwards I always knew I was wrong. I shot the tattered leather book across my dorm room and curl into myself unintentionally. This was one of the major upside's to being a prefect, you get a single room. No one to annoy me just when I wanted to be alone. It's staring at me I can feel it, face down on the floor years and years of emotion seeping out from each line. I don't want to touch it, I don't want to read it, I regret ever writing it to some extent. Although all of these things are running through my head I still get up from my foetal position and grab it by spine, shutting it rather forcefully and locking it away under my bed. Out of sight out of mind right? I wish, it's like I am a child again, scared to look under the bed because I think that a monster is going to jump out at me and drag me back under there with it. Only as a child you are hallucinating this is as real as the things that are written in it.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, knees up to my chest silent tears start to roll. I just can't believe that I choose to remember that this happened. That I choose to let it define who I am, I don't want that, it's in the past, best it stays there. Wiping my eyes with my cuffed sleeve, I make my way to the door to start my prefect duty. The book staying under the bed with all its memories, feelings and scaring moment, I will not let it define who are I am, that's until I open the book again...
As I leave my room, the door slam causes two boys to jolt at the vibrations, Wes and David, staring up as if everything was normal, and that they hadn't just had their ears to door frame. Without a word they rise from their position on the floor and trap me in tight embrace. Wes holding on to me a bit longer than David. I had always felt closer to Wes than David, I roomed with him the first year I moved here, he wasn't the friendliest person when I turned up midterm and took one half of his single room. But something changed, I don't know what and I don't know when, but all of a sudden he just changed. He always said he just had a change of heart, I don't believe that, I think he found the book. Of course he would never admit to that, he is too proud of himself to admit to looking through someone else's personal stuff. Not that I would be mad, actually I am rather pleased he did, it saved me explaining everything to him. I just couldn't, I don't think I am strong enough to explain what happened out loud. I know that sounds so stupid but written down, I don't know, when its written down it has the ability to be fiction, saying it out loud, it makes it real. After a pat on the back they made their way to the other side of the hall to their shared room, located directly opposite my door. Coincidence, I think not. This school will never let my past stay in the past. They need people to 'keep an eye 'on me. Yes because Wes and David will do that perfectly won't they? Please say that you can tell the sarcasm there.
Wes and David are some of the best mates a guy can have, but they aren't the most reliable pair in school. A school with a reputation for producing some of the most successful young men in business's all across the world. A school with rules so tight that finding a way around them is practically impossible had accepted Wes and David with open arms ever since they were just six years old. That is actually funny considering they had both been on dorm arrest since last week, and they still had 3 weeks of it left. Maybe that statute had been worth more than they thought, anyway I walk down the corridor ticking names off my list as I check the rooms and taking any sharp or pointy objects that could cause anyone harm, my perfect prefect demeanour never slipping until I reach room 156. A room belonging to one, Mr Kurt Hummel.
A/N Thank you for getting this far ^_^
Anyway! I writen this as i was very very very bored in my English class and was trying to come up with an new original writing piece and this came into my head, so please review it
means soooooo sooo soo much to me. This is my first story/drabble ever ! so play nice please...
I ship - Wes/David David/Kurt Wes/Kurt Wes/Blaine Blaine/Kurt =]
Love you all minus sign three !
