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Nearly Gone Over

Katherine Hsieh (Youth)

I have always ridiculed and looked down upon those that want on a rampage, went to school, and just started wiping out people with a bloody knife or gun. I thought that they were stupid and demented, that there was just an impulse in them or pleasure to massacre those surrounding them.

But I was completely wrong about that.

I was already had a bad week. No sleep, a whole lotta homework, and pressure as the school year neared to a close. A person would have thought that the teachers would be nice and lighten up on the work load. Yeah right. Not in a million years, and especially never if you are taking all higher level classes.

What had happened that week did not help to soothe my dark mood either. Being special and standing out because of my background, the way I talk and associate with others because of the “black” or “ghetto” middle school-as people liked to say, has always had its pros and cons.

The “Moron Trio”, or the “Three Idiot Musketeers,” as I liked to call them, were being especially ruthless in calling me names and harassing me verbally throughout the first two days of the week. I was exhausted and fed up with these buffoons, as I had already dealt with them for a year, and being just continuously insulted with mocking words did not help my already boiling rage. I refrained myself from displaying my emotions on my usually-so-expressive-face, because the taunting would only worsen if they knew that I was responding to their attacks. But that wasn’t all. My former crush, a person that I thought was pretty brilliant and charming in personality, turned his back on me and joied the fun. All my past anger at him came rushing back as I remember how stupid I was to have thought that this boy held feelings for me, I must have completely deluded myself with such utterly absurd fantasies that were never meant to come true. And there is always that one guy that gets on my last nerves that pushed it a little too far. He had always treated me like I was a piece of trash, but I did not understand why; I never talked to him or had any dealings with him. My mediocre day just went downhill when he started the whole episode.

To top it all off, I swear, all the academic classes were ganging up on me. The amount of projects and homework assigned that week was just ridiculous. I stayed up past midnight (and my procrastinating friends called that early) just to do some elaborate report on some book that had absolutely no stuffing to it whatsoever. 

Fast forwarding to the next day, I was in second period with one of my favorite teachers. NOT. I hated the fact that I was one of the unlucky ones who ended up having one of the hardest, no matter how well she taught, World geography teachers ever. That day, we were all working on our final exam review sheet which would boost our future terrible final scores. She had the radio on. And then out of nowhere, the song. “Party in the USA” by the beloved Miley Cyrus, came on. And I just buried my face into my hands, oh, how I hated this song. Other people were making noises and this one girl barked out a particularly loud laugh. The teacher, who was aiding another student, sharply glared over and asked me to repeat what she had just said, and I did, but only the first half. And I know, nobody else could repeat what she had said entirely. She was furious and wanted to know the reason why I was acting so foolishly. I tried so hard to answer her respectfully, because the whole incident was not even my fault.


Her, being the stubborn headed mule who always thought she was right, ignored my answers. AND I HAD NEVER, I MEAN, NEVER BEEN SO ANGRY AT A TEACHER. She yanked the last straw of control I had left in me. And at that moment, the lady did not know that was restraining myself from literally leaping over the desks, and strangling the life out of her. I knew that I was physically possible, though she was a bit on the heavy side; once I am over the edge of sanity, I lose all control. I was praying to God that this woman would not actually have to call the cops on me for assault and attempted murder. I was never so scared in my life, for my whole life and reputation was at stake if I followed what my instincts told me to do. When the bell rung, I gathered my materials calmly and strolled out the door. My friends told me that I was not even the one at fault, but here’s the catch: none of them stood up for me, and I knew that I would have if they were in a similar situation such as I. Only those who knew me well enough could see my relaxed body and a smile, but a cold, murderous fire burning in my eyes. 

It haunted me for the entire day, and only when I arrived home, did I let out my frustrations and anger and tears. I would not let anybody see the weak sides of me, my other half, because, the person I truly was and the person I was in society were completely different. And people didn’t need to know that. I cried for an hour; all that pent up malice that was building up inside of me was finally being released without inflicting damage on anybody else.

The next morning, I ACTED like everything was fine, when in reality it was not, and greeted the teacher like I did every day. I ACTED normal. And though I know it was wrong of me to do so, I held coldness against her, because I never forgot those who did wrong to me, especially those who NEVER APOLOGIZED.

But, on the Friday of that miserable week, she surprised me greatly. She handed me two certificates, one for working so hard in the class, the other for being ONE OF HER FAVORITES.  Imagine my shock when only two other people received an award for the first achievement. It was then and thee that I was truly grateful to God; if I had let my rage unloose, I would have been expelled from the school, and possibly damaged my entire future. And I would have never been honored in front of her eyes, the class and the Lord Himself.

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