Here’s the thing. I’m quite an observant person. I, I don’t understand the whole meaning of having a non-poetic view of life. I mean, I think poetry is as broad as Tyler, the Creator and Emily Dickinson, and along with that I’m a very analytical person as well as being creative. I went to the neurologist at Fairview Clinic in Minneapolis, and of course my parents lied to him and accused me of being defiant. I also found out I was 59.65% left brained, and the rest right brained. I guess that’s why I always think things through, and it’s quite hard for me to be able to trust people. Well, thanks to a great number of people, I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, also known as Clinical Depression. Yes, it sucks. It’s some of the worst pain ever. I’d rather get my teeth pulled out, with no painkillers. Anyways, let’s get on with the essay.

The whole day I had just been depressed and ticked and tired. This has how my life has been since January of 2012 which is every day of my life in fact. I didn’t do much, just hanged around at home and read and did Algebra. After a while, I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to go the choir concert at my old school. Yes, there was the risk I would encounter the backstabbers which are also known as friends of MW, also known as the spoiled cliquey brats. Anyways, I went into the car with my father, and it was super cold. I don’t understand when people say “It’s as cold as hell.” That’s a supposed paradox, but in some interpretation Hell isn’t necessarily hot, that was made up by Dante. We went on some highways, and we picked up my mother from my mother’s cousin’s house. We got there, and I speculated that inside of these boxes which incapacitated me were numerous Christmas gifts, and were in an old Macintosh box. We drove down the highway, stopped at a McDonald’s and I got a Carmel Frappe and a 10 piece chicken nuggets. I’m not allowed to eat beef for a while, which I hate. We drove to the school, and they dropped me off.

I walked into the school for the first time in over six months. A tear came to my eye. I had gone there for two years. I had made some very good friends, and some enemies. I had good teachers, I had bad teachers. It seemed like before May of 2012 everyone cared about me. I know that wasn’t true. I truly miss my old school, but I could never go back.

I walked into the building and I saw three girls dressed up in traditional garb and were singing Christmas carols. I knew one of the girls from past classes, and she was really nice. I went down the stairwell and I saw a great number of people who were just enjoying the evening and were indwelling in the twilight that is called Night. I knew some people as I passed on by. I walked to the gym doors, and one of the ladies who works in the office was there, and she handed me a program. It was a green program to be precise. She welcomed me back, as if it were a home coming. A few other people said hello, and I felt a warm sensation in my heart. I exited back, and I decided to go the choir room. On the way there, one of the moms of one of the girls who have seemingly turned on me saw me, and she said, “Are you ready?” I had no idea what that meant. Maybe she was trying to imply if I was ready to apologize to her daughter, or maybe it would be symbolic meaning if I am ready to exit my season of depression which has been hampering my sadness for a great number of years. I turned away though, and I felt sad. I walked to the choir door, and I waved inside, and the choir teacher saw me and gave a smile, and at the same time a few of the people inside looked back and a few said, “Is that Shawn?” I don’t know who Shawn is anymore personally. Anyways, I turned back to walk to the gymnasium, and I walked inside and one of my biology teachers from my sophomore year approached me. We talked about how I was doing, and I knew she genuinely cared about me. I mean, her son hates me, but at least she cares. She was there for me when my Aunt Barb died. I write that in tears. I mean, I and Barb weren’t exactly on the best terms, but I know she loved me. I, I really miss her, and I truly love her and her kids. We talked for about two minutes, and then my other biology teacher showed up and we talked and we sat down in a row that the first teacher who talked to me had saved for people needing a place to sit. I sat down and talked to my other biology teacher about my new schooling and my health. We talked for about four minutes, and then the show started. It was quite an interesting show.

These young tikes were up first, and they were way better than me at violin. They did a good short set, and then some more younglings went on stage and performed. Then there were the middle school students, and the middle school choir. They were quite good for people at that age group, much better than the idiots in the School District. I was really looking forward to seeing the High School Choir. A whole lot of my friends were on it. They sang, and to be honest, it was not the absolute best. The women section was pretty good actually, but not as good as when I was in choir two years ago. The men were quite interesting. They weren’t bad, but they sure weren’t the best. I applaud them for trying though, because they all did a great job. Missing two of my friends though and I felt bad about that. The principal gave a closing prayer.

My biology teacher who was the one I was sitting by told me to go on the risers when it was time to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus”. I went to the tenor section, since I am a low to mid-range tenor. We sang it, and it was quite fun. I hadn’t really sung public for a long time, and it felt like a whole meaningful experience. I saw a great number of my friends, including some I would consider “close” for the first time in over six months. It was as if a large number of weights had been lifted off of my shoulders. I think I even felt happy for a mere second or two. After the singing, I walked off the stage, and this one girl said hi to me, and the previously mentioned spoiled cliquey brats all turned their white faces towards me and gave me a very elementary grimace, and then turned away. I felt awful, but there is no use cussing out a bunch of brats, especially in a church, no less a Christian school.

I excited the gym, and I wanted to find the choir teacher to ask him where a homeschooled student such as me would be able to extradite my singing voice into a better medium. I went to the choir room and had a little chat with him. He wanted to talk longer, but I had one last person I really wanted to talk to. The most beautiful girl I have ever met.

I went up and talked to her. I myself don’t really trust girls. I think that most of them would never be true friends, not to say every girl is like that. She’s really trustworthy though. She is also quite pretty. I wish sometimes I had a different face, a different color in order to make these types of girls attracted to me. I wish I was tall, had a six pack, was white, had a rich family, and could grab a dozen of these girls. I’m not any of those things unfortunately. I’m too young for her, is what plays back in my mind every time I ever think about her. She helped me conquer my psychosis, and she’d answer me and act like a guide, when no one else could ever do that. I wouldn’t say at this moment she is one of my best friends, but she definitely a true friend, and I really do appreciate knowing her. She is beautiful inside and out. We just talked about the performance, and my education, and then she asked me something that no one has asked me in so long. She asked, “Do you still sing?” I was taken aback for a few seconds. She actually cared to see if I sang. I answered yeah; I do a few covers once in a while, but not enough. She said I was good singer. Then I choked up, and I said see you later. I walked out of the school and found my father waiting in the car. We drove home.

Christmas is such an interesting time. We discover what it means to give. What it means to take. What it means to truthfully care. The whole dexterity of this disagreement makes it mildly hard to function. I saw some really good friends, people I knew cared about me, and I’m sure they wanted the best for me. I also saw people who used to be good friends of mine act as if I was nothing, and seemed to quarantine the past and throw it all away. These girls I thought really cared for me didn’t seem to notice. The past really is the past though. I buy gifts for people that I really care about, and I love them. I may seem to believe everyone in the world hates me, and wishes that I was dead, but I know that isn’t true. At Christmastime, family and friends are really important. Money is stupid. It’s wrong. I hate it. I got 400 freaking bucks for Christmas last year and I had no happiness. I was happy when I was with friends, and people who cared. I love some people, and I know they love me, and ultimately, that’s all that really matters.