21: The Antidote to Righteousness

CALEB DE LA ROCHA
The last few days of school have been lost in a haze of other people's bullshit. I got to English early today so that I would have time to settle in before the onslaught of emotions, and it's not exactly working. I have to close my eyes as the other students start coming into the room. I try to sift through the feelings; focus on the colours and try to figure out what I'm going to be up against for the next hour.
Red. Anger. That one is pretty obvious. And it is an emotion that I'm super familiar with.
Black sludge. I think that one is disappointment. But this is worse - this is dripping sludge. Hot and cold all at once. Ugh, I hate this one. I feel it all the time but I can't I figure out what's different about it. And it makes me want to jump off the roof.
Soft blue. It settles behind my eyes and makes my head heavy. Exhaustion. Dr Samson tells me that being tired isn't a real emotion, but I don't buy it. There's a certain kind of tired - a bone-deep weariness - that definitely qualifies as an emotion.
Off-white. Soft. Suffocating. Sadness.
Red again.
Black sludge.
Black sludge.
Black sludge.
God, why can't people just chill?
Pins and needles under my skin. My breathing picks up. Traffic-cone orange.
Stress.
Oof, a lot of stress.
And then.
Quiet. Blue-green. Not sharp like red and orange, but deep. Endless. It fills me up,
empties me out. Clears out the sludge, the pins and needles, but makes me tense.
Restless.
I open my eyes.
He is there.
Noah.