dreary.

warning: there will be hints at swearing. only in quotes.

i had a Great, glory weekend. I cleaned my room while listening to Les Miz soundtrack, singing along! I also began work on a digimon fanfic, entitled 'Dark Serenity'. I Posted chapter one, and got some positive reviews, so I'm glad. I plan on updating it once a week- long enough to build suspense, but not long enough to drive readers insane with worry. Its been really fun to work on- I've had the plot in my mind for months but i'm only just starting to write it.( give it a try if you feel like it...)
Sadly, my Glory gave way to sorrow. P.E. Personal Endangerment. Painful Endurance. In short, hell on earth.
today was horrid.i was forced into being goalie,and the other team- we are playing team handball- through the ball hard. even some of my own team pummeled me. Finally i couldn't take anymore- i could hardly stand. the ball slammed into my upper arm- the same arm that still hurt from being knocked to the ground twice the day before. i started to cry, the pain overwhelming. I limped to the sidelines, and the teacher came over' is there anything i can do' ' that's what happens when you are goalie' etc. i just wanted to be alone.
leaving the gym, Alma, the bane of my existence, my personal devil to go with my personal hell, got in my face. in her getto-girl accent( though shes not, she only acts like it) she asked' you got it.' well, I'm crying and limping and holding my left arm to my chest in an awkward position. does she need to ask, i wonder? no, she only needs confirmation.
" it's'a rubber ball, they don't hurt, faker. you need to toughen up, wimp.' she said more, but i don't hear. my blood boils.
i did something then, in the moment, i flipped her off. i didn't mean to- it just happened. I'd been getting better about swearing and anger, but i was so angry. how DARE she tell me if i am in pain or not!
i did it to her back, after she's knocked me to the ground, but a leech tells her. she starts harassing me, calling me names, saying 'I'm gonna beat your motherf***ing ***' and other things, getting in my face, calling me a b****. i only cry silently- harder. I'm so sick of this. of all of this. everything. i wrote on my math paper, over and over, ihatethishellihatethishellihatethishell...
i want it to end.
don't give me that look. i don't want to die. i'm not that kind of person. i just want the pain to stop, to be able to cry when i hurt, to not have to worry what each day brings.
my father says i look thinner.
when your heart rate goes up, you burn calories. my heart rate is always up- worrying that today will be the day my bones give out, my weak ankles snap, my abused fingers crack, my ribs, so sick of the jabs and handballs, break, and i hit the floor from the agony, and crack my skull. it will happen. not today, not tomorrow. but one day. one day. and so my heart beat quickens the moment i hear the bell ring' beep beep. beep beep.' and the whistle is blown.
to day i limped the rest of the day. last week my left hand was useless from numbness. yesterday my lips were bloody from biting them so hard to keep from crying- to keep from drawing the attention of the jackals.
my guardian angles have abandoned me.
anyway, more later.