All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Look Up For Me MAG
“Do you ever get that feeling?”
Luke glances up from his chemistry textbook.
“What? What feeling?”
“You know. That feeling.”
“Wh--oh.”
“No. Not that. Just … I don't know … never mind.”
Luke drops his book on the wooden table separating us. He's finally focused on me, which is all I have wanted since the moment we met a year ago. I feel a burning heat trickle down my neck, and I hate myself for that. I feel exposed; when your own skin reveals your true feelings, you can never hide.
“No. Go on. What feeling?”
“Well …” I decide to ask him, “Do you ever feel like you're sitting in a crowded room – I mean, not like claustrophobic crowded but like crowded enough to feel a little uncomfortable – and everyone is talking and you scream. You scream so loud you feel like the sound reverberations might cause your throat to explode. You just keep screaming, but no one even looks up. Do you ever feel like that?”
“Are you asking if I ever feel invisible?”
He isn't listening to me.
“No. Do you ever feel like that? Like what I just described.” Luke's eyes roll around in their sockets. He says “no” firmly, then picks up his chemistry textbook.
I say, “Oh, okay,” but before the second syllable can even escape my mouth, Luke cuts me off.
“You know, you're really weird. And you say ‘like' a lot.” He gives me a look that I interpret as: I knew you were weird, but don't be weird around me.
So I do something I've only dreamed about doing, something I wish I'd always had the courage to do.
“You know, I feel like that sometimes,” I say. “I feel like I'm screaming, and no one looks up. But I think everyone feels like that. Sometimes, you just gotta scream.”
He isn't listening to me. His eyes are glued to chemistry, and he doesn't even like chemistry. I'm tired of this bullsh*t.
So I scream. And he looks up.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 47 comments.
