Plants? Prologue?
Do you feel it? Do you? A plant's work is in our air. I can feel it entering my lungs until I exhale. Most people don't focus on their breathing but rather focus on other things in their sad and pathetic life. I like to hear myself breathe because I have nothing else to do. Every day seems to be a pattern: get up, go to school, have a terrible day, go home and fall asleep not anticipating the next day. At school I appear to be distant. I am often focusing on my breathing pattern, the beauty of nature outside, and sometimes both. When people see me they make small and quiet conversations about me.
-What a weirdo-
That being the most common statement about me at my school. At home I listen to my breathing and focus on the nature outside, something about it is so fascina-
-BANG-
But that's the problem: this world. My breathing is usually drowned out by sirens or gunshots. At school I hear people talking or the teacher's chalk scratching the board for what seems to be hours at a time.
I grew up in a great neighborhood with people who were kind and friendly, people that cared for you like you were special to them, until... My parents died due to a gang shooting. I wanted to stay with my neighbors but instead was taken in by my grandmother who was ninety five. She lived in the toughest neighborhood I have ever seen. I tried to remain positive but then my grandmother disappeared. I looked everywhere but couldn't find her. I was alone in this house with only a few light bulbs and a grandfather clock that made a satisfying tick every second. In the moment, I take myself away from society by not being outside my house often and staying away from people. I trust no one! Not even my friends and girlfriend because they betray me, at the same time I don't even want a girlfriend. Either way I still have to go to school. Once I graduate from middle school I will finally be able to move out of this hellish neighborhood. Days pass as each one feels slower than the rest. My stomach continues to growl because I can't afford a decent amount of food. This will change once I enter high school. It's at that moment I felt high school shake my hand, while saying in a low and demonic voice "Welcome to Hell!" During this handshake I could feel high school putting needles in my hand. The needles hurt. They went deep and felt hot, as though they were heating up. My hand was on fire and there is nothing I can do about it. So now you know why,
"I hate everything"