I just.. snapped.

I don’t even really know how it happened. I was just standing there, happy as can be, when I heard someone say, “The teachers are so mean. I don’t wanna do all this homework, so i’m not going to do it.”

The next minute, I dropped my stuff, leaving it abandoned next to my friends as they watched me quickly walk away, in shock from my oh-so-sudden breakdown. I walked away, as far away as I could in the commons area, dropped my notebook at my side, and hugged my knees. I closed my eyes and rocked back and forth slightly, silent tears running down my face. Shutting down for the first time in many overdue years, I just sat there and.. thought.

Why did I snap? Well, that answer was easy. One, being bullied didn’t make anything easy, and she was tired of hearing everyone complain. She just wanted to yell and scream and hit all the people that complained about something so small, because their always perfectly capable of doing it perfectly fine. They just don’t want to do it, or will say they don’t have to because their too perfect or smart or too ‘bad’ to do their homework.

Second? Everything was frustrating. From being yelled at for asking questions is school, to never being left alone, to having a brother who pretended to be sick and made you do his chores, to abusive friends who were ‘just kidding’, to people being rude for no reason and not caring about you at all, to... EVERYTHING.

It was all just getting so tiring. So old, so frustrating, and happening everywhere. And then their a person copying everything I draw? Really? She copied one of my best self-creations that I gave to friends only as presents, and she sees it once and then copies it in the most terrible way possible, and shows it off to everyone like she originally created it and was the best person on the earth for doing so. I already had problems with this chick, but she wouldn’t stop!

Gathering myself together after my shut-down, I realized I had practically soaked the collar of my shirt and everyone was surrounding me. Drying my eyes and slipping on my sweatshirt, I just smiled to everyone, closing up my little jar of hate and grief that lived deep inside my heart. I picked up my stuff as the bell rang, representing that we had to go to the next class.

“Hey.” I heard, and turned around to see the principal. “Is everything okay?”

I almost started balling that very moment at the question, but all that happened was that tears shined in my eyes, but didn’t spill. “I’m fine,” I responded, plastering on a fake smile. He nodded, still looking worried, and let me go to my next class.

This was written not too long after the incident, so the idea is still fresh in my mind. I can feel my little jar of hate, cracking and chipping because I can’t open the lid. I’m not going to open it anytime soon, and I know that it’s unhealthy. I know it’s not right, and I need to tell someone about everything that’s happened. But I won’t. I’ll keep it inside, and put on a smile. Not talk to a few people, and smile to everyone else. Make up with some people, and try to be happy.

My little jar will crack one day. But until then...

Maybe it can hold on just a little bit longer.