Most things that happen in life aren’t meant to happen, but sometimes, often more times than not, they happen anyway. All we as humans can do is live, learn, process, and move on. This was a lesson I’d come to terms with since I was in my pre-teens. Life isn’t fair, and the sooner you learn that the better. The world is full of fucked up people who will use any means necessary to get a leg up on you in life, or just look for ways to break you in general; both spirit and body. If you live life thinking otherwise; let’s just say good luck out there.
I had my first encounter with this reality when I was a child, and little did I know it would shape the framework for everything else that would go wrong in my life. Life sucks but that’s life for you, so all we can do is cope with it and survive.
“Alright, listen up! Today we’re going to look into self-expression through poetry.” A chorus of cheers and groans spread out through the room. Some happy, some distressed, and others, much like me, didn’t react at all. Ms. J simply just waves it off and passes us our journals, those damned journals. You would think that by the time we reached high school (let alone our senior year) teachers would understand the complete irrelevance of ’writing down our feelings; especially when the teacher in question like to take these ‘artistic bouts of expression’ for a grade. Don’t get me wrong, I really loved this class, hell, this was my favorite part. No one really likes opening up and being vulnerable, but for me it’s therapeutic. It gives me the momentary escape from my own reality. I just hate the fact that Ms. J turns them into little ‘show and tell’ projects. God, do I hate those, but I put up with it; much like anyone else who takes this class, because of the schools’ resident teen crush holder Ms. Amanda Johnson, in all my life, I’ve never known of someone who could be extremely random and strict at the same time as Ms. J. She’s like a mother to me, funny but scary as hell when she wants to be. She’s the only reason why I’m taking this class: Lyrical Mastery II.
“Oh, shut up, you all know the drill.” Giving us her infamous smile, she looks us over and sits on the front edge of her desk. Oh God, not that look. That look never means anything good, ever. Whatever she’s about to say spells hell for someone in here, and the sinking feeling in my gut tells me that whatever it is, deals with me. Clasping her hands together, she reaches across her desk and pulls out 2 tickets. A couple of guys let out a few whistles and catcalls once she does and all I can do is roll my eyes. Honestly, I know she’s gorgeous and all, but seriously, not one of you stands a chance in hell. Not even if hell froze over right now. We all know she’s a lesbian, and that she currently has a girlfriend; a fiery woman by the name of Jamie Parker, or as I know her JP.
I’ve seen them together around town a few times, and as different as they are, I swear that they’re a perfect match. JP is White, five-seven, and Game designer. She has a few tattoos, a faded blue pixie cut, a nice dainty frame, and stormy grey eyes. Ms. J, on the other hand, is a short five-foot Latina with long wavy brown hair, light hazel eyes, and a body that could make anyone drool, not that she’d even give them the time of day if they did. “ah hem,” hearing someone clear their throat, my attention draws back to the petite woman patiently leaning against her desk while everyone starts to settle back down. Once satisfied, her eyes glaze over each and every one of as she waves the tickets around before continuing, “This time, I’ll be looking over what you write for a class poetry contest. The one that best captures the essence of this week’s theme will receive these tickets. What they are for, however, will remain a secret. The theme is desire.” Looking at the clock, she walks back around her desk and sits down pulling out her laptop, looking at us expectantly.
“What are you guys waiting for, an invitation? Hop to it.”
An hour later, the bell rings and I gather my things before heading off to the cafeteria, Ms. J saying her goodbyes in the distance while the halls filled with laughter, music, and chatter. “Lulu!” Not even more than two steps into the cafeteria, I almost fall over from the force of someone tackling me. I swear, I’m glad I decided to wear my low tops today. If not then I definitely would’ve fallen flat on my ass or face, either way, it would’ve hurt like a bitch. Looking back, I see one of the best and craziest people in my life right now, Zena Micheals. “Hey, Z. I know your excited and all, but get them off me. You're heavy.”
“Oh, fuck you, I am not,” rolling her deep chocolate eyes, she leans back and fixes her short curly black hair. She dyed the ends a lilac purple color about a month ago, yet it still looks as good as when she first got it done. Zena is mixed with black and white, average height, and is very opinionated with a strong hate for most people, but she makes up for it with her crazy yet quirky personality. Looking me over, she smiles widely before opening up her arms wide, “Now hug me, I missed my bitch.” Laughing, I hugged her before making my way over to the line to get some food. Eventually tired of waiting, I just grabbed a wrap and a Pepsi, then headed over to our favorite table in the far corner of the cafeteria; waiting there is the last piece of our little trio, Blake Lane. “Finally! What took you guys so fucking long!? I’m hungry you whores!” Rolling my eyes, I hug him before sitting down to a take a bite of my wrap, “Hello to you too Blakey. No one told you to wait to eat until we got here.” Damn, that wrap is good.
“Exactly.” Plopping down next to me, Zena steals a fry from Blakes plate causing him to glare at her. Blake is a dorky Brazilian with almost amber colored eyes, he’s almost six-feet tall, and if you haven’t noticed gay. I swear, this boy could out dress a supermodel and makes any and everything look good. Give him good lighting, a camera, and a guitar and he’ll go wild. I met Blake through Z as they’re childhood friends, and my life has never been the same since. These two helped me heal from a dark time in my life, and no one could ever replace them.
“Shut up, no one asked you, Ina.” Taking the fry back from her before she could eat it, he sits back down and tosses it to the floor.
“’No one asked you Ina’, oh stop whining Lanie. Not my fault you got a stick up your ass.” Oh god, here we go. Pausing, he looks over at her and slowly stands up, “What. Did. You. Just. Say?” Taking my tray, I slide over to the other end of the table. No way in hell am I going to let them ruin my food because they want to act like five-year-old children.
“You wanna go?!”
“Bring it!” They both stand face to face, glaring at each other like the others face would melt if they stared any harder; waiting to see who would strike first. This is ridiculous, I’m not even going to stop them. I can’t count how many times these idiots do this. They’ll be back to square one in three, two- “Pft haha,” sitting back down they laugh their asses off like there was no tomorrow. Perfect, thanks to those two morons, the whole cafeteria was watching our table with a mixture of curiously and annoyance. Yeah, they’re annoying and crazy weirdos, but they ’re mine and I love them; but I love my food more.
What? Food comes before bros, hoes, besties, and anything else. Food is loyal; food never lets you down, well, unless your allergic to something or it gets you sick, but other than that food is constant. People are not. People will drop you without a second thought for your feelings or how it affects you. People betray you to satisfy their own needs. People are heartless and care only about themselves. People are cruel, and people suck, but food, food makes you happy, and if I had to choose whether I wanted to have food forever, die alone, or fall in love. I’d pick death by food. Why? Because why let someone take control of your heart and emotions and make you dependent on them? Yeah no, I’ll pass. Fuck love.