Warning: Explicit content!

         As I arrive back to my classroom coming from the girls bathroom, I saw the pages of my Biology book torn; some pages crumpled, wrecked, destroyed, but still intact with its spine. I flip through each page and notice BITCH inked in deep form. Some penis doodles are illustrated on the reproductive systems chapter with words beside it your pussy dont deserve this dick! A burst of laughter from my classmates and no teacher is around to witness it.

         You might consider this as high school nightmare, but to me it happens everyday but not in a predictive manner. Yesterday I received an ancient box of chocolate filled with living roaches. I know its a prank because the expiration is dated two years ago and no one would hand me real chocolates, since its an all-girls school. Last month, I believe I got a fake guidance slip claiming that the counselor needs to confirm if I am the one behind the sudden spread of Sexually Transmitted Disease. Again, its a prank because I am a virgin and the signature is obviously forged. Somehow the news got to the principal and called my parents for this incident believing that I have an Attention Deficit Disorder. The entire school faced a brutal consequence from that prank, as we are all required to undergo a medical checkupevery lady in the batch. No one got harmed but rumors are spreading that some students have lost their V-cards and have to be lectured on a 5-day after school detention spree regarding premarital sex. Not that I am accusing anyone, but they are probably the same girls behind the incident.
Since then, I receive stares on each hallway I walk intothirty pair of eyes if Im lucky. My locker is filled with anonymous post its and notes with dead bugs, curse words, violent images, and destroyed personal items they stole from me days ago. I ask myself of all people, Why me? Why do I get numerous hate from everyone? Am I an anti-stress capsule? Do I really have to face the consequence that Im different from everyone? They call me a weirdo for being myself. I talked to my parents that night. Mom said Im undeniably attractive, slender, tall, and kind. They might be jealous. Dad said I shouldnt mind high school nonsense. My parents said this while theyre facing their computer or smartphone, reading an important email. High school might be different from their time, or maybe they never really considered this an urgent issue. They told me that I should not feel victimized by these girls because in five years, Id be in a happier situation. But what happens in high school stays in high school unless these girls get what they deserve. There will always be one girl whod take my place when no one wants to.

         You might think Id lock myself in the bathroom every lunchtime and cry about the unexplained wrath they have for me. You think that if you hand me a Happiness Project book, the entire emotional burden I am carrying would suddenly disappear. Its so much worse, actuallythinking that I have to live like this until graduation, unless they find a new victim, then I dont have to. Yet the cycle is vicious and ongoing. Any student who would try to help me had to face the same circumstances I am in. Thats why no one dares to. Worse is, no one halts this culture because these picture-perfect girls would make their stories as miserable as mine, too. Or perhaps the average population is divided with wannabees and apathies. The first group believe that these picture-perfect girls have their world under their controlthey gathered an ignorant band of followers just believe whatever these girls say no matter how horrible or made up they are. The string of fan is worse than the creator. The second group cares less about high schoolas long as they are untouched by these girls and their victims dont vomit or cry on their lunch trays, then they can tolerate their prison years in teenage education voyage. It is a high school game, and they called me the loser.
         Okay, so what if I sound lame. Its reality. If given the choice of what should happen, heres what I wished really transpired:
         As I arrive back to the classroom coming from the girls bathroom, I saw bones torn from limb to limb and blood drooling, mixing on the tiles. Some skulls are destroyed, wrecked, crumpled, and some are intact from their spine. As I look from their wrists, BITCH marked on their skin when one hand holds a blade, the other a knife or another weapon. Walls have tattooed handprints from real blood; some words formed die whore. Bodies are lying semi-naked on the floor, revealing lifeless organs. Rats eating their internals. A burst of scream coming from severely the wounded ones and no teacher is around to witness the event. Of course, some are still living, but losing their minds; these people are those who used to be on my loser spot before I came in the picture.

         I am no the only survivor in this incident and somehow I feel both the twisted satisfaction and the vague indescribable rage from the bloodbath. Indeed, I feel the relief that its overI dont have to face these ladies again for another day in my life and their death forms some kind of justice for their victims. Indeed I feel bewitched because I wasnt responsible for this; which I think is an instant excuse that its something I got away with.

         In my mind they are already dead. In my mind Im some kind of psychopath dealing with my demons. The same kind of person they invented in order to cope with their monstrous pranks. If there is a cure to this, stop these girls in creating beasts with no horns first. Stop these girls in creating an army of ignorant clones. Stop them before you become an unwanted survivor like me.

Doodles Doodles Reviewed by Michelle Tan on 7:13 PM Rating: 5

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