Two more years

"Beep, Beep, Beep", goes my alarm at 6 o'clock in the morning.

I switch it off with my fist, drowning my face into my pillow.

"Ugh, another day of complete misery. Another day of school", I tell myself.

I smell breakfast from downstairs in the kitchen. The second alarm begins to ring of my mother yelling.

"Khahil, time for school", she proudly says.

I make my way to the yelling, getting ready for the day. I find everyone sitting by the kitchen table, my little sister as always is playing with her food, while my Dad reads through the morning newspaper. I find my place on the table, as my mother hands me a plate of bacon and eggs.

I stare at my food with no life left in my eyes, but with the sleep still taunting me. While eating my breakfast I hear no single word of my parents conversation.

At the back of my mind I pray for a reason not to go to school today. But like always that prayer is never answered as I hear the bus taking me to school hoot around the corner.

Grabbing my bag I make my way to it, hearing my mother say, "don't forget your art book dear"

She hands me the book, my Dad gives me a silent nod goodbye and my sister continues to play with her food.

Along the way to school I think of the mood I'm going to use once I get to class.

I really hate school, not because of it being school in general, but rather because I stick out of all the students there. I'm like a large pimple on a teen's forehead, ready to pop.

I attend a private school full of all the high class rich kids while I come from a middle class setting. It never was my choice to attend such a school, but the Art scholarship I was offered said otherwise.

All the other kids don't even ride the bus, they get dropped off by they personal drivers. I ride the bus alone.

All my days of school seem to drag on like a slow train to death. The rich kids look at me like an uncommon denominator and the teachers look at me like a charity case. Thankfully I don't mix with any of the spoiled brats, so I tend to focus more on my studies. But I sometimes ask myself, "is it even worth it".

"Two more years of this, just two more years", I tell myself everyday.

The hours take their sweet time to move along, the lessons are basically depression filled in a glass of sadness that this school system forces me to drink.

During lunch breaks, I choose between sitting alone or with what the classes call THE LESS RICHER KIDS. But that's still by a couple thousand dollars, so I still stick out of the bunch.

During free periods I spend my time drawing sketches inside my Art Book. I'm known as the poor kid who can draw really well.

The last bell rings to end this miserable day, but it only starts the time for sports which I gladly bunk.

When the day is finally over I watch all the other kids being picked up by their drivers in such fancy cars while I wait for the bus.

I get home and put on a smile for my family for them not to worry. I have my supper but I hardly ever finish my meals.

After that I take a cold shower, do my homework and attempt to do some serious study. And after all that I drown myself back into my pillow to fall asleep.

My lullaby for every night is,

"Two more years of this, just two more years"