Novels have always been an escape for me. As I read, I get to feel all the emotions that I don’t allow myself to experience in real life. In my imaginary world, no one judges me for being who I really am, because I can be anyone. I can decide to ease the burden and be a normal, popular, confident student; I can forget my identity and pretend that my problems don’t exist. I can overlook that stupid face Martin makes as he’s judging my writing, I can deliver myself of the secrets that my homosexuality implies. Lying to my family and friends so that I don’t get even more bullied than in my actual situation can sometimes get so heavy…
Without any warning, Martin barges into the reading club and takes the notebook that I always carry around.
- Give that back!, I angrily shoot, even though I know by his grin that it’s quite unlikely he’ll listen to me.
- Why would I? Isn’t it a reading club?
He’s so tall he doesn’t even have to run for my precious writing book to be out of reach. Raising it up, I feel like he loves seeing me jump around him in order to get my damn book back. He waits patiently until a few more people come in and starts reading out loud, with that stupid voice he always uses when he’s laughing at me.
The more he speaks, the redder I become. He chose the worst page of them all, the one where my main character confesses his feelings for the girl he always loved. Fortunately, my bully doesn’t know that he was the inspiration behind it. I grab the book back, almost tearing it in two. Surprised, he lets go.
All I can do is run away.
Of course, everyone laughs. I don’t even know why I still bother going to that stupid club any ways.
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