Four
by Oliver
I suppose I have to go.
Can't I call inn sick? No. I did that last week.
I have to go.
I just get so confused, I feel so awkward.
I want to go, but I have to screw up my courage to go.
It's the other guys, that's what's bothering me.
Why can't I just forget them? What could they do anyway? I only ever see them there, once a week. It's not as if they'd be able to do anything to me, make my life hell or anything.
My life's bad enough as it is.
Why do I feel like this?
I dunno.
I've thought about it so much, all the bloody time, actually. Every week it's the same; I start panicking on about Friday, so that fucks up the weekend for me. It just gets worse so that by Tuesday night, I'm a gibbering wreck; can't sleep, doing the 'other' doesn't help either. Just seems to make it worse.
Then, before I know it, it's Wednesday again.
I drag myself through the day, knowing that I have to go. Want to go. But then, my courage seems to leave me.
There'll be a confrontation, I suppose. 'Where were you?' Not accusing, he just wants to know, I suppose. How can I say that I was outside, in the street; got this far, but just couldn't go in? Chickened out. Afraid of myself.
Wimp! Get over it! Are you a man or a mouse? Get it together, put on a brave face and march through that door. It won't fucking kill you for God's sake.
Won't it? I'm so scared.
Fuck it! I have to go! They have to see! I'm both scared and ... and what?
Maybe I like this feeling. Ever thought about that, you tosser?
Why do I feel like this?
I dunno. Oh yes I do. Stop hiding, idiot! I know why I can't go.
I know why I'm scared. Well, it's about time I faced up to it. I am going!
No turning back. I'm here now. Deep breath. Ready? Stop trembling you dweeb!
Okay, here goes. Just march in. Don't look to right nor left. That's it! Keep going!
I love you sir!
Fuck! fuck! FUCK!
Wrong fucking classroom!
