ONE DAY IN MY LIFE

the life of the author of the story; this is one of the things

the author of this fic went through at school every day for three years.

I guess you could call it a very short biography.

I was sitting in the theater room at my former school.

We were practicing for the ending ceremony of our seventh year. We were going to perform a play, and our parents were all going to come watch. I was sitting in a chair in front of the stage. The only reason why I'd chosen that particular chair, was because I'm handicapped, and it was the chair nearest me; I didn't have to walk so far on my crutches to reach it.

I was watching how the other students in my class were running around on their completely healthy legs, opening their mouths and roaring stuff at each other. At least it sounded like roars, when so many were shouting at the same time.

My crutches, I'd put on the floor beside my chair. I continue to look at the others, occasionally casting glances at the watch at the other end of the room, opposite of me. The clock showed another thirty minutes to go, before I was free to go home. I sighed, looking at the other students.

"What do they know about hardship? What do they know about what it means to have problems, and to really feel depressed? And what do they know about being constantly excluded because you're not like them?"

I mentally kicked all the students in their faces. If I could've used my legs that way in the real world, I would gladly have done it. That was the way I felt, at least.

"Ignorant fools. They don't know anything."

I sat back in my chair, trying to think of something else.

My head jerked upwards from my lap when I suddenly felt something move close to me, and heard something being taken off the floor.

Sverre, the number one asshole in class, had taken my crutches the tenth time that week, and was standing at the other end of the room, waving my crutches above his head while leering at me. Now, I couldn't go anywhere; I was more or less helpless.

Maybe I could get up from my seat, find the balance, and stagger over to him and try, with a hundred percent chance of failing, to take my crutches back. But I knew it was no point in trying, since the guy who always took my crutches, could easily do whatever he wanted. Everything from giving me my crutches back, to pushing me to the floor and bust me up.

He ran closer to me, and stopped a few feet away, holding my crutches as if he wanted to give them back.

I looked at it. Just the same game as always: trying to make me leap for my crutches, and then jumping away just before I could catch it while laughing himself silly, and calling me handicap-discriminating stuff in front of the entire class.

I screamed at him to "GIVE IT BACK, GODDAMN IT!", but he just laughed.

For some reason, I heard the other students laugh with him.

Apparently, they thought it funny too.

I looked at my teacher, trying to get her to realize the situation, but she just stood there, looking into space.

She looked as if she didn't really care much, or just didn't know what do to, or she hadn't realized at all what had happened.

I was jumping home on my crutches. I couldn't walk with them, I could only lift my legs between my crutches, and jump. Suddenly, I tripped, and fell on the hard pavement. I lay there for a few moments, trying to ignore the pain in my right leg. I slowly started to get up, trying to get my legs to cooperate.

"This sucks. Why does this have to happen the very same day that guy takes my crutches?"

I finally managed to get up, and continued to jump home. It wasn't far, just about five minutes to jump.

I reached my house, a big, red-brown two-storied house, and punched the code on the door necessary for getting inside.

I put my backpack down on the floor of the entrance hall, and jumped into the bathroom, and turned around to close the door behind me. I looked into the mirror. A small boy at the age of eleven with more or less dark hair looked back at me. The boy was wearing glasses, which had gone filthy from lack of cleaning. The reason why I didn't care if I saw the world as a kind of mist, was probably caused by the situation I was in. Lately, I'd been so depressed because of school, that I didn't care about such things.

"Who cares if my glasses are filthy, or if my hair is untidy, or anything. Least of all me, then why the heck am I staring at myself in the mirror?" I jumped out of the bathroom, and into my bedroom.

I turned on the Playstation, and after a few seconds of thinking, turned on Final Fantasy 7.

"Finally, I'll get something else to think about for a few hours." I thought, and focused on the game.

A few hours later, I heard the code door in the entrance hall open, and heard the familiar call of mom entering the house. "Hellooo?" I put the Playstation console down, and jumped on my crutches out in the entrance hall to greet her.

"Hi, ma! Been okay at work today?"

"Been great! Felix really enjoyed it!" She replied cheerfully.

I smiled as my little terrier, Felix, ran into the living room to the right, rolling around on the carpet, playing with a sock.

"I'll go into the kitchen, and start the dinner in a while, Eivind. I'll call you when it's ready."

She smiled, and went past me into the kitchen to the left.

"At least I have got a nice family."

I thought as I jumped inside my bedroom again.