"He killed himself—young..."—great things to me, a discovery of all time! What do I care about some alienated Kordian who never lived anyway? Let the diligent students, who always know how to answer the teachers' unanswerable questions, worry about him. It makes me want to sleep.
"Are you taking notes?"—well, she always has to ask. Instead of asking if we like the covers of our notebooks, or if those chairs are comfortable. But no! Every question, every answer, even every thought, has to be related to the lesson topic. But oh
well... everyone writes something, and if I don't write, the all-knowing teacher will remind me of the palaces standing in my journal column. So, pen in right hand, the other hand opens the notebook, and we write: "Nature in a poem is a reflection of feelings—it is sad (like me), dying (like drug addicts). Kordian wants God to rid him of anxiety, fear, restlessness, and despair."
My hand hurts, I'm not writing any more; it's better to draw little squares in the margins. I don't think about anything, and that's best. I'm sad like Kordian, I want too much from God like him, and I receive too little from Him. I receive nothing. Kordian like me. And anyway... Kordian better go to sleep. Along with the Slovak idiot who's constantly sad, just like me. Except I don't torment other people with myself, which can't be said about him.
"The bell is for the teacher, not the student!" they've been telling us since elementary school. Teachers are really weird; what good is it to them to keep us on break?
Break – a cluster of conversations, usually unrelated to school, unless there's a test in the upcoming lesson. Everywhere I go, I hear: I tell you, what a party! Everyone got high and wasted. I tell you! It was amazing. And how can you cultivate your delicate mind and cultivate your own individual way of looking at the world in the midst of something like that? You can listen in on conversations and laugh at people or envy them. Or you can reminisce about your own parties. There are many possibilities.
"Do you know how much I like you, Asia?" – gosh! How I hate that kind of talk! Instead of saying, "Have you done your English?" He says such nonsense to me.
"English?" – I won't argue. Why waste my time.
- Nooooo – and then there's those idiotic things. I think I'll beat someone up here someday.
"Here," he hands me the notebook, and my friend rejoices, practically jumping up to the ceiling.
Happiness is such a strange state, or maybe a way of life. Happiness can be a small thing, and at the same time, it might not be a big, good thing. Oh well.
Homeroom – another boring lesson. Ram-pam-pam absences, tra la la la tardiness, oh oh, why weren't you there? I don't think I'll ever understand why interesting and truly important topics are never discussed during these stupid homeroom hours. Like depression, death, happiness. No. Violence, assertiveness, and other such uninteresting topics are more important to the school system. But okay.
But I have to admit, there's one big plus to this lesson – you really don't have to do anything. A few people are supposedly having a lively discussion with the teacher, while the rest are either listening or not. And an even bigger plus is that it's the last lesson today. I'm as tired as ever, and every day after class I draw the same conclusion – school sucks all the energy out of you.
I don't know why, but these last lessons always drag the longest. There's only five minutes left until the bell, and it feels like at least 15 minutes. Sitting in front of the TV, that same time would be a fleeting moment for me. But at school, every moment stretches on forever.
Finally, the bell rings. Now, just a backpack on my back, crooked from sitting in the school desks, "Pull up your chair!" Okay, I'm already going, you stupid woman. Now stomp, stomp, down the stairs, slap, off to the cloakroom for a jacket, a scarf, gloves... ugh, I think I've lost it, so off I go into the freezing cold.
My nose is freezing, my fingers too, my cheeks are red and frozen, and I'm shaking terribly. Come on, Aśka! The soul is beyond the body, come out of yourself, you're beyond the cold, you're in control. Well... A moment of reflection, and I'm not so cold anymore, it's bearable. Snow-covered trees surround me, the snow crunches under my boots - the mood is beautiful, the views are beautiful, what more could I want? Dinner! Oh God! I'm so stupid. I wonder how many people in the world are laughing at themselves right now... Except me.
At this moment, I feel a strange mystical feeling within me. I feel like I'm not walking, but floating in an immensity of air filled with God's breath. What if I thanked God for life? For a school that brings nothing interesting to my life? What if I thanked Him for the world, for winter, for people, for teachers? What if I went to church and said, "God, thank you for existing. I apologize for my actions. I ask that my dreams come true." And why not?
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