History revision + art exam tomorrow!!!

My art exam is tomorrow!!! Wow.... Wow.... Woooowwww.....

I think this is the only year when I'm not excited for my birthday. I guess finally turning 16 is pretty cool, but eh. Gah the exam is tomorrow!!! So excited!!! 

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So it was my last art lesson today. Yup. Not stressful at all. At all. At all.... *cries in the corner*

I haven't posted anything lately because I'm kind of busy with school at the moment. And life too.

Also, I wrote a book. But, after rereading it, I realised how pointless it is so I'm going to rewrite it.

Muse released a new song and I'm so disappointed because it's just... average and meh. Like it's not at the same level as "Resistance" or "New born" or "Knights of Cydonia". But I guess we can't judge the whole album by one song and I'm looking forward to that!

Secrets! Secrets!

I think I will go to the Penguin now (that is what they call the bathroom in our institute). I will sit there until the hands on the big clock of the corridors show three minutes to five.

I feel very uncomfortable, walking down the deserted corridor. There isn’t a soul on this floor. The sound of my own steps seems unbelievably loud and makes me turn around: who is it stepping behind me?

Finally I’m at the Penguin. It is also unusually empty and quiet here. All the day students have gone home and the borders are not allowed to use this bathroom when school is over: they have their own, on the third floor.

Am I imagining this? No, I’m not – someone is crying. I walk closer. Sitting on the window still, in the deep niche of the window, there is a girl. Closing her face with her hand, she is shivering in silent crying. Tears are seeping between her fingers, dripping onto her black apron, while her other hand is squeezing a corner of the apron – as if she is falling into an abysm and is trying to hold on to something.

Carefully, I quietly touch her shoulder.

“Why are you crying?”

The girl suddenly takes the hand away from her face. She looks at me with hateful, spiteful eyes.

 “What do you need from me?” she saying hoarsely through her sobbing. “I hate you all! Everyone! Everyone and everybody! Hate so much that it hurts even here, in my throat!”

 “And me… You hate me?” I say in surprise.

I’m surprised because this girl, Sonya Pavlikhina, is almost a stranger to me just like I am a stranger to her. She’s a border, studying in the 1^st section of our 5^th year while I’m in the 2^nd section. We know each other by surname and face. But we have never said a word to one another… What does she hate me for?

Sonya Pavlikhina looks at me fixedly – eye into eye. She then, unexpectedly, pulls me towards her. I sit next to her in the window still. She hugs me, putting her head on my shoulder. With the sudden revelation of despair – as one person, who’s kept silent for too long, spits out their grief to the first person they see – Sonya Pavlikhina tells me about her misfortune.

Yesterday, on Sunday, the borders had a day of family visit – “the family day”. So many times has Sonya asked and begged her mum to not come here, the institute! Throughout the four years, mum has never been here.

They only saw each other during the summer, on holiday, when Sonya visited her mum. Sonya knew: if they saw mum, it would not end well; there will be trouble. But, recently, Sonya was sick with measles Mum found out and, of course, couldn’t resist and visited…

Because mum doesn’t have anyone in this world, except Sonya, just like Sonya has no on except mum! Mum is so weak, quiet, every drunkard can harm her. But mum can’t – she just can’t! – shout at anyone; drive the drunkards out of the pub.

I don’t understand much of Sonya’s confusing story where, for some reason, there are violent drunkards, who need to be driven out of the pub, but Sonya’s mum just can’t do that. But Sonya Pavlikhina is crying so much, squeezing my hands in a seizure, that I understand: something terrible has happened.