and the best is, no one knows who you are

So I sit there, paying full attention to what she's saying.

For the first ten minutes.

I really do pay attention. I do. I only tend to slip away into my own daydream while nodding my head to everything she says as if I'm listening. Then I jolt out of my daydream and give my devoted attention to her.

For another ten more minutes.

Then I go into my own world of flashbacks, memories, daydreams and miscellaneous thoughts.

And all these thoughts actually unravel from something that she's saying.

She speaking numbers but somehow I connect her numbers to thoughts and the thoughts all just unwind themselves from my brain. Sometimes I dream so far, I can't even remember how I got there in the first place.

I can't help it. I guess I just live in a Happily Ever After or maybe a Happily Never After. I don't know. I just dream and I like daydreaming. It's a productive pastime which costs nothing except your imagination. Some are pleasant, others sour, a few forgettable ones.

Then she looks at me. I'm still nodding, my lips slightly parted. I look like I'm getting it. Truth be told, I'm not there.

"Do you understand?"

I blink. Um, what? Is she talking to me? God, I hope she doesn't ask me to do a question because I barely heard a word that she said. I nod again, alert now. Her eyes bore into mine. I hold her gaze for only so long so as to not appear as defiant. Then I turn to the book and its pages filled with numerous numbers and few alphabets.

I sneak a glance at the board to see where we are. Oh. There. I skim through the examples and I find that I actually understand what's going on even though I have just spent too much time than necessary in my wonderland. I silently thank (God? Myself? The teacher?). I don't know. Who should I thank?

I focus, my ears and eyes and brain peeled. But no matter what I do, she gives me that 'you flunked' stare which makes me feel so, so, so guilt-ridden and hopeless. I actually thought that I was doing it all right but in the end I screwed up. She doesn't believe in me. Not since the second time. How can I trust myself if you don't believe in me? It doesn't matter anymore though.

She moves at an incredibly fast pace, a wait-for-nobody type of person. I struggle to catch up and I manage to at the end of the day. Slower than others but never too late. I'm not being a pessimist but I just don't do numbers. The other day, my brain was burning by the end of the lesson. I felt almost crazy. My brain felt like a racing car tire after too many laps around the racing track - burnt to an indistinguishable piece of rubber.

"I'm sure you're all going to further your studies in mathematics."

Um, no. Actually, I do not intend to do such a thing as I have no interest in math except for just passing the exams with flyable colors. I wonder why I even chose this path. It's not what I want. It's just not me. But do I have a choice? People always say, you have a choice. I see none  now. I don't feel dictated neither do I feel other options nearby.

"Class, you really shouldn't copy your friends' homework."

I hear her scoff and think to myself, What? So obvious. It's not like you're perfect or anything. You've lied to everyone but you can't lie to me. I'm not as dumb or naive as she thinks. I just don't let them see my true personality. They all think that I'm a nerdy and oblivious tool. Congratulations, you now know nothing. And I hope you never learn my true identity. I am not a spy, sorry to disappoint you.

"Now why don't you try question..."

I pick up my pencil and stare at the question while she's hovering in front of my desk. Unnerving. I flinch, hoping she'll go away. I tap my pencil against the empty page wondering why the very presence of her instills fear in me and why my brain doesn't seem to function when she's staring. I scribble out the question, hoping that that'll satisfy her. I glance at the example on the board and try to work it out while trying not to look like a fool.

I always manage to look foolish. After a moment of staring down at me (or so I think), she turns and walks away. Maybe she's exasperated, maybe she's going in her mind, I knew she couldn't. I don't know. I never have the guts to look at her. Maybe I'm a coward but I don't give up that easily.

I look to my right.

"I don't get it. Help me?"

She smiles, always ready to help me even when she says she won't. On most days, I am grateful that I ever got to know her. She asks me what I don't understand and I point it out. She makes it so simple and I find that I understand her explanation more than hers. I shoot her a grin then thank her.

The lesson ends. I sweep everything into my bag and bolt, anxious to get home.

That about sums up half a lesson.

xxx

How can I change the world? 'Cause I sure can't change your mind? Where's the miracle I need now?

I have been singing Westlife songs since I can remember. I used to sing them without knowing the meaning of the song. Now I do and they make me feel so good, you know. It just gives you that complete feeling that you know something that you once didn't. Better late than never.

She could lick her lips and smile and make you wanna believe that the consequences of your actions...

The Backstreet Boys' songs have never felt so whole.

Oh, chariot, your golden waves are walking down upon this face.

Gavin DeGraw who has sometimes one of the most annoying voices but sometimes one of the nicest voices. You choose. Either way he has lovely melodies going on in those songs.

Na na na na na na na.

Vanessa Carlton - Spring Street. (:

xxx

Your pitying act is most disgusting. You're acting as if you're five and need your mommy and daddy to back you up. Spoiled children. And those who need to cling on to friends. Insecurity about sums you up.

xxx

Love,

T. (:

I spent an hour and a half on this. NO WAY.