notebook
Events from the first and second row, classroom 23
The boy flips through the pages of his little notebook. The smell of new pages, fresh and unused, are mesmerizing somehow.
Perhaps this school year will be different.
The boy writes down a sentence or two about each day. Usually unpleasant thoughts, or thoughts that he would find cringe 10 years later. On rare occasions he feels inspired and writes ahead of time; a little thought for the future. Not some positive stuff about being loved or never giving up, mind you. Oh no. That’s not what the boy is about.
The boy is in the zenith of his teen angst, or as some would call it: his sweet sixteen. And he thrives in it.
Big words spread across little pages. Long since did he give up on writing tidy and between the lines.
The boy writes about his headaches and lack of sleep. About watching cool videos and happy moments of cancelled classes. The boy writes things he doesn’t say, not to his family nor to his “friends”. Strangely, this writing thing doesn’t seem so bad. It comes from somewhere that is purely, unedited him.
Sometimes he gives the notebook to his friends to write something on a random page - a surprise for a random day in the future.
A girl he kinda likes writes a passage. She writes of the events in their classroom number 23. She writes how the boy has changed in the few years they’ve known each other. It’s nice to read it. But they would still become strangers after highschool.
The boy’s birthday comes and goes. He wonders how many more he has to go through. He’s been surviving his life instead of living for a while now. Perhaps there should be a class about that, about surviving. Maybe next year there will be.
At Spanish class, the boy has to write three things he wants to achieve by the end of the year. He writes only one:
"Sobrevivir."*He is tired. His calendar is getting fuller with tests and exams. The boy tries to take it slow - one after another. Even the boy starts realizing that his life is boring. Every day he writes the same.
His parents ask him about school. The boy would literally prefer to talk about anything else.
“I’m just waiting for something.” he writes one day. He doesn’t know what for. But this isn’t it.
The boy rests his head oh his pillow. He thinks of the present and finds nothing there. He thinks of the past and then… the gates open. He sobs like a little child who just wants to be held and hide from the world. He wraps his arms around himself - the best he can provide right now. He wails into the pillow the things he cannot find words for. No one comes to tell him that everything will be alright or that he is remarkable. Everything the boy lacks he now releases in his cries. He sleeps then. For a briefest moment before, the boy feels unburdened.
The boy visits Prague one day. He falls in love. There is happiness in his notebook. But he can’t stay for long. Perhaps one day he will be back.
The boy survives another school year. He is seventeen now. When he looks back, he doesn’t remember much of it. Perhaps that’s what they are trying to teach him the most: how to be unremarkable.
And with that, the events in the first row in the classroom 23 are over. He will be back next year to do it all over again.
Oh, and he will need a new notebook then.
*sobrevivir - to survive