HIGH SHCOOL IS A BITCH!

Written by McLeod

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[: CHAPTER ONE | PART ONE :]

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Mommy! I'm right here, don't go!

My eyes ease open. My room is pitch-black, the only illumination coming from the glowing digits on my iHome's display. I glance at the it: 5:29:33. A soft groan escapes my maw at the realization that I've actually woken up BEFORE my alarm sounded. Usually I sleep right through the alarm, even when its volume is set to MAX. I suppose this is a first for me.

I lay there in the darkness as the seconds tick by, the only sounds were my breathing and the pounding of my heart. For some reason, it seemed to be beating rather slowly. Odd.

Thump... Thump.... Thump... Thump... Thump...

Time: 5:29:51, :52, :53, :54, :55...

I count down the final seconds, muttering each decreasing numeral in my head.

Five (5). Four (4). Three (3). Two (2). One (1).

Time's up. It's 5:30:00 AM.

Being the clever rabbit that I was, I made sure to set the WAKE UP feature to iPOD, thus allowing music to ease me from my sleep instead of that horrible beeping of the common alarm clock.

The song playing this morning: "Kiss It Better" by Jeffree Star.

Let's listen.

"Tell me what you're made of...

_ I'm made of innocence, too._

_ What you're afraid of..._

_ I'll make it disappear._

_ Beautiful scars don't last forever._

_ Come on, let me kiss it better._

_ The pain won't last forever._

_ Come on, let me kiss it better."_

I let the song play. I continue to lay there, just listening to the lyrics of the song. In my opinion, the song was quite brilliant --- SIMPLE --- but brilliant. Can you decipher the meaning?

"You're perfect the way you are.

_ I wanna hold your suffering in my arms._

_ They're talkin' and they're talkin' but they make no sound._

_ Whatever you do don't let them break you down._

_ You're perfect..._

_ You're perfect..._

_ You're perfect..._

_ ...the way you are."_

I can't help but smile. Imagine loving someone so much that you'd risk losing yourself --- the thing that made you...you --- to ease their grief and pain. The thought confuses me, and fills me with an odd emotion...one that I can not place.

As the words from the Queen of the Internet continue to glaze the silence with beauty and sadness, my heart begins to ache.

"They make you wanna self destruct

_ and become someone else..._

_ And when it feels like it's too much,_

_ Baby don't hurt yourself..."_

His voice, though modified electronically, is filled with such passion. The person in this song is so in love with their significant other. If this is true, then why is their voice filled with sorrow? They should be happy that they're finally helping to heal their lover's wounds. But, instead of this joyous tone, I only hear depression. Sadness.

"Beautiful scars don't last forever.

_ Come on, let me kiss it better._

_ The pain won't last forever._

_ Come on, let me kiss it better."_

Maybe he's trying to tell his lover that when you're hurting, don't go through it alone. Find someone --- anyone. Let someone cuddle you and lift that sorrow from your shoulders. Let someone ease your pain.

"You're perfect the way you are.

_ I wanna hold your suffering in my arms._

_ They're talkin' and they're talkin' but they make no sound._

_ Whatever you do don't let them break you down._

_ You're perfect..._

_ You're perfect..._

_ You're perfect..._

_ ...the way you are." _

I don't suppose that I can actually relate to this song at all. You see, I've never experienced love (sensual love, I mean), nor have I experienced helping someone cope with their tragic dilemma of self mutilation ( "Baby don't hurt yourself..." ). The person suffering in this song must have been going through some seriously fucked-up shit. I can only imagine what kind of problems they must face...

_ _"Don't you see...

_ Don't you see..._

_ You're P-E-R-F-E-C-T._

_ Don't you see..._

_ Don't you see..._

_ You're P-E-R-F-E-C-T._

_ Kiss it better..."_

The song ends and I am left with tears forming at the corners of my eyes. I sniffle, wiping them away with the back of my paw. The bandage on my wrist grazes my cheek. The cotton-weave is warm. Rough to the touch. A memory...

Oh, how many secrets lay beneath.

But I don't think about that. I can't. Instead, I will myself from my bed, cool air engulfing my body. A shiver runs down my spine the moment my pawpads make contact the cold, wooden floor. My mind is still consumed by sleep, my eyes drooping as I remain motionless, just sitting on the edge of my bed. A song by Ke$ha initiates, but I don't listen to it, not really.

I want to go back to bed.

Gravity, Lord of Everything on Alterra, is willing me back down into the warm confines of my comforter tomb. His unrelenting fingers drag on my shoulders. I understand that resistance is futile against such a powerful Being, but I have priorities to take care of this morning.

Namely: A piss and a shower.

A nice, hot shower should help to chase away the Slumber Creatures they take residence up in my brain, and in the muscles of my body. The only problem is that: a) I'm still half-asleep, and b) I don't really want to go to school today.

Nope. Truth be told, I've been dreading this day of days for a couple of months now. Why, you may ask? The answer is rather simple: I don't like people. Not anymore. No, I don't really like anyone, especially those who want to fuck around with me on a daily basis. Such as: jocks, cheerleaders, homophobes, religious extremists, the Str8 Edgers, and all other forms of human and anthropomorphic life that think they have a say in my life.

Honey, if you don't like me, to Hell with to you, then. What makes you think that I give a fuck about what you have to say? Huh? You're meager opinions regarding my appearance / preferences doesn't matter to me at all. You'd be better discussing your hate-issues with a wall, my friend.

Like I said: Don't like folks.

I glance back at the clock. Ugh.

iHome: 5:45:23, :24, :25, :26...

You know what, I've made up my mind. I'm NOT going to school today. What's the point? You'd just be putting yourself through that shit for seven hours a day? Does anyone have an answer to that one, huh? What logical sense can that make?

Come 'ere bed. You and me will be snuggle buddies today. Screw school.

_ "Coda, make sure that you do good in school today! Just remember: Education is the stone that paves your road to a successful future..."_

I grimace as the memory assaults me.

Grrr.

Go away. You're gone. I don't need you telling me what to do anymore.

Leave me alone, I think to myself angrily, but, sure enough, tears spring back to my eyes, this time pooling much faster. One salty orb spills over my lid, cascading down my furry cheek and landing on my arm, soaking into my fur.

My heart is having trouble beating properly now.

THA-THUMP!

THA-THUMP!

I breath in deeply, my throat encrusted with the sand of evil memories. I hate when She pops into my mind like that, all unannounced. An invader. A disease.

But, She's never been wrong before.

Fine. I'm going. My voice is a growl inside my mind as I rise from my seat, joints popping with released stress. I crack my back, neck, and knuckles. Even though I know that arthritis will set in like a demon during my old age, the act of popping my bones back into place fills me with sheer relief.

I'll just pay for it in the end.

I try not to dwell too long upon this daunting matter as I shuffle off towards the bathroom.

It was time to face the day.

Good...

...or bad.