Monday's Bliss

I mean it though, the bliss. On Mondays I feel relief because my mannerisms are excused as a disgruntled reaction to the deceased weekend. When it's Monday I don't have to assume the facade too quickly. I read as I walked, ignoring everyone an being totally justified.
By 8:15 the facade is completely sealed, not a seam loose to be yanked on thrusting me into the fetal position.
I get through my first class of the morning, Religion, listening to my two group members reveal sex lives. One had been sex-sober for three months and the other regaled us with the joys of sex in the shower, simply put I could not reciprocate as I have been sexually sober all seventeen years of my life.
However I find it interesting that everyone confides in me as if they know that my lips were not meant to gossip.
Bell. Homeroom, loud, bustling, hovering.
Elections were fogging up the atmosphere everyone want some grip of power because senior year is coming. Senior year.
I kept my head down feigning sleep and boredom, I've lost interest in maintaining my homeroom "companions." My head perched on my forearm listening, my body shaking as life pulsed through it, my hair tickling my nose my right hand pushing it away.
"Ladies, language!" perked my ears for a moment but the rabble continued, this life continued.
My lids encased my eyes, and I am watching still calculating every movement by ear, no one is subtle.
Bell. Algebra, cold seat.
Algebra is the class that conflicts me the most. I put on another facet, the defiant student but lately the stitches of this facade have frayed revealing my distaste for defiance and my joy of learning.
So Algebra rolled by with grunts and complaints and the prolonged "Uhms," when the confusion set in; every teachers dream I'm sure.
The interesting aspect of the classroom was that all the desks faced a large center aisle, one side of the room looking at the other. The conversations across the room are the most interesting. Whenever I find myself dazed my eyes would flicker across the faces of my classmates reading their expressions. However I looked at their moves today, concealing gum, lollipops, wrapped around pen caps or hidden behind hands or heads. Odd I know.
SAE smiled at me as I shook my head at Mr for scolding Sen because she shouted out an answer because she was the only one really excited about the lesson to begin with.
At this point the homework review seemed endless and the class was disgruntled and praying for the bell which sounds like a microphone when its next to metal. At this point Mr began a speech about how math is learned and how it isn't.
Realizing I was loosing my grip on my surroundings I asked to go to the restroom. When I left the room there was one other person in the hall and I frightened her with my odd tendency of gliding; I walked in a way that didn't make sound to other people but I certainly heard it.
Sometimes I didn't realize I scared people until it was too late to take by what I had done.
After drowning my face in cold water, the only kind of water in this bathroom, I glided back to my class apparently opening the door too quietly because Sen jumped up screaming "Holy crap, you scared me." I smiled because that's all it ever took to relax Sen, to relax anyone.
Bell. Lunch, escape. Bell.
I had English today and English in Panther High was torture for anyone who actually like the subject or literature, especially as much I do. Today's topic was plagiarism for the third year in a row.
Work cited, mistake, paper. A lot of words in between as MLA format was discussed. Ms. DeFaux my lackluster English teacher with a horrible melody wrapped around her every word dangled AP English essays in front of the class hoping to stir interest, fail.
I never had good experiences with my English teachers and I know the cause of it: I wanted my words to go unchanged and they wanted to make them better.
I pray for the bell. Sweet bell, toll like the broken machine you are.
Bell. Spanish.
Spanish is the best worst part of the day.
The best because the day is coming to its rightful end, worst because the classmate that sit in front of me doesn't have the sweetest scent which is horrible for me because my sense of smell is painfully strong.
So as I sit in my seat in the back I unlace my facade as no one really cares at the end of the day. No one talks to me in class they talk around me.
Announcements. Prayer .Bell. Service.
I tutor for my mandatory service but I love the children we only have to teenagers that come to be teenagers but their guys so they integrate quite well with kids, in a good way of course.
No facade needed. Children are easier, they don't try too hide how they felt especially not from me because I could read an expression as if I were reading that persons mind.
Locker. Jacket. Walking to the bus.
The bus was fun for a while. the open window distracted me from peoples scents ad I enjoyed the air.
However after a while the bus is a test of the senses. My ears would perk in all kinds of directions and my nose was receiving everyone's scent unwillingly as the window was no help now the bus had filled. The sensation is painful and unwilling I take in all the smells nose burning and salivating, as you can see I am unpracticed with the norm.
This test of endurance usually ended with me getting off the bus and walking a little before taking my next bus. That' s my day until I can curl up in my desk chair and read my time away just like every other night.