YGO is not mine.
Dear Amane,
I had a rough day today. Well, rough in a manner of speaking.
I was walking out of language arts at the end of the day when the teacher asked me to stay after class. To be honest, I thought I was in trouble. Maybe I'd plagiarized something unintentionally on our last essay or something like that. Turns out it wasn't.
I asked her what was wrong, smiling my usual, fake smile.
"Ryou, is there something you need to talk about?" the teacher asked I have to admit, that caught me off guard. My smile fell.
She held up a poem I turned in for an assignment last week. There was a one hundred marked on top of the paper, so I confess I didn't know what this was about.
She pointed to the block of writing underneath my name. Let me see if I can remember what I wrote…
The demon lives inside of me,
It lurks behind my eyes.
I've learned to suffer silently,
For no one hears my cries.
I make my wrists weep crimson,
As I stare out at the moon.
I pray that all my suffering,
Shall come to an end soon.
Forsaken by even God himself,
I'm helpless to end the strife.
Perhaps it would be easier
To simply end my life.
"Ryou…are you thinking about committing suicide?"
That question really caught me off guard. I said of course I wasn't, but I could tell she didn't believe me.
All in all, I was stuck in that classroom for about forty fie minutes before she let me go. She not-so-subtly hinted that I needed to see a psychiatrist, and that she'd be telling the school counselor about me.
By the time that I got outside, it was pouring. Lighting flashed, and I heard the clap of thunder ten seconds later.
As if I couldn't be any more miserable, as I was about to cross the street, a truck drove by, running though a puddle and drenching me head to foot in muddy water. I cursed under my breath, and entered my apartment building soaking wet.
On the elevator heading up, I was silent, listening to the steady dripping of water off my hair and clothing.
I sat down and turned on the television, procrastinating my homework until later that night. Nothing was interesting, and I got hungry. I pulled some leftover Chinese food (ha, Chinese food in Japan) out of the fridge, and went back to the mindless drivel on the set.
It was better than facing my reality.
Love,
Ryou
