TRI△NGLES
2
I knew everyone thought I was weird, but in all honesty I
didn’t care. I really, really didn’t. As usual. But
not caring can be comforting. It numbs the pain of the daggers
glared at me, the insults thrown for nothing.
Like I said, I used to care. I got good grades, played sports.
But one day, my mind got ahold of me. And then, well, there was
no going back. Not since that day in ninth grade when I got home.
I didn’t care when I got kicked off the soccer team. I
didn’t care that no one liked me. I didn’t care that
my parents found the weed in my drawer. But one of the things
that I did care about, that fascinated me, was
triangles. I saw them everywhere. Especially when I was under the
influence. And I thought about them all the time.
When I was upset, I named all the different types of triangles,
thought up as many different triangles as I could and tried to
figure out the degrees of their angles. When I got knocked out by
a soccer ball to the head, I saw triangles, not stars before I
blacked out. When I was bored, I drew triangles and colored them
all in. When I was happy, I colored them all over my walls. And
then I painted them. The four walls in my room were now broken
down into tons of triangles, some big some tiny. I added one
every day. I had 143 so
far.
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StillFlyy · 1 decade ago
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thank you(: