I am a high school student and have recently started to record my experiences in class as  my school day progresses.

I cry out silently, listening to my deepest thoughts and emotions echo off of the tender, stone walls of my heart.

Alone.

I look to the face.

Up until recently, I had admired her subtle, suppressed beauty from a distance. I steal another look. I want to feel safety, compassion, love, anything. Anything but that overwhelming, sickening disgust. It makes me laugh.

I experience fits of disgust for anything and everything, forced to retreat into my own personal prison of secluded agony. Then I remember that I don’t know what I felt the original feeling of disgust for. It makes me smile. Pessimism for pessimism’s sake. What could possibly be so cruel.

“We are social animals” I hear my psychology teacher scold. “Then why must I be lonely? What makes me different?”

I plead with the troubling apparition, further evidence I have stumbled into the abyss and broken my legs, unable to crawl out. Why is there no one for me? Is my angst simply the struggle of consciousness? Or am I the lead in a comedy for some omniscient being? I smile again. My performance would most certainly win me an award.