Has anyone ever died because of crap overload inside their brain?

If I'm the first one, please make an NFT of my MRI scan and put the money made from it into a trust fund for future shortage of medical grade oxygen. Because I stopped registering what my history teacher is saying about fifteen minutes ago and my head feels like it's about to burst.

Breathing out an evidently disgruntled sigh, I take out a stick of peppermint gum and tear the wrapper noisily.

The crackling sound of the plastic is soft but the sleepy silence in the class amplifies it.

The teacher pauses and stares at me as I place it on my tongue shamelessly and people start to turn around to look at me in the second last row to watch the show.

Honestly, I don't mind the attention. In some ways it makes me feel important.

I continue chewing my gum, and pretend to be oblivious as I run a hand through my thick wavy, black hair.

"I do not allow any student to eat in class, Miss Davis." The history lady says sternly, setting the textbook in her hands onto her desk.

"Phew, thank god I'm good then. I normally don't swallow my gum so you shouldn't have a problem." I retort in a bored tone and a few boys in the front snigger.

"That's enough Miss Davis!" the teacher says in an appalled tone, "Do not force me to throw you out of my class."

She breaks a small piece of the chalk piece in her hand and tosses it towards me. The piece misses me by a few inches because of her terrible aim and rolls near my feet after landing.

Jeez, she really wants to piss me off, doesn't she?

Here I am, simply minding my own business and trying to be courteous enough to stay awake in her class and she really wants to choose this moment to prove a disciplinary example.

Unnerved by the sudden liveliness in her period the teacher glances threateningly at the students sitting under her nose before planting her attention on me again.

"How dare you talk back to me like that, Miss Davis?" she scowls like an ugly harpy, "Spit that gum out right now and stand up and elaborate the change that appeared in art in medieval Europe."

That question isn't even hard and it feels like an absolute joke to me. If she wanted to humiliate me in class, the least she could have done was to ask something that wasn't in a highlighted box in the textbook.

I stand up nevertheless, slinging my bag onto one shoulder and step out of my seat.

"Page seventy four, second paragraph up to the last paragraph on page seventy five." I smile listlessly as I sashay out of the classroom.

Pages rustle behind me as several students check if the answer is on the page numbers I named and a few boys whistle.

"Detention, Miss Davis!" the teacher screamed from the doorway, "And I'll have the headmaster know about your impossibly difficult behaviour in my class. We'll see which school accepts you after that."

I pause for a moment as I pucker my lips to blow out a bubble, contemplating whether telling her that I already got accepted into three of the seven universities I applied to in advance would be wise.

But I decide that I don't want her to have a stroke just yet. She's a kind person and a regular volunteer at the senior home my grandmother stays at. My grandmother loves her so I let her be. I can't bear the thought of Grandma being upset about something I did.

After a quick detour to the restroom to check my hair and face, I head out to the large bleachers lining the football ground for an hour of solitude.

There's no one except a couple of sophomores attempting a quickie behind the bleachers and a couple of first-string players slogging out on the coach's orders.

Since it's still summer, the sun shines bright and the toastiness of its warmth and the cool gusts of wind make the weather perfect for sitting outdoors.

I pull out my copy of Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari and turn to the page I'd stopped on.

I can't read much though. My mind is distracted and I'm not sure why. This has been happening a lot lately and it bothers me.

Honestly, the last year has been lonely. Ever since my best friend, Izzy moved halfway across the world to India I've had a hard time coping.

And let me tell you, being smart, pretty and moody isn't easy. It's so fucking hard to try and fit in that after a point I chose to give up. I wonder sometimes if it's normal to have two seemingly separate underlying personalities constantly warring with each other? On one hand I crave friendship, on the other I consider myself better than everyone else.

Izzy was the complete opposite of my personality- she was brimming with enthusiasm, soft-spoken, and kind. Her eyes sparkled with an innate intelligence and she always understood me perfectly. I absolutely loved everything about her.

As much as I hate to sound shallow I cannot deny that my thick, dark hair and skin with a light chocolate milk texture tends to grab a lot of eyeballs. And the fact that my curves have started to look more prominent since the end of summer hardly allows me to remain inconspicuous.

And I love wearing pretty clothes. They make me feel beautiful and confident- like I could take on the world alone with my wits and charm.

Most of the intelligent and talented kids get intimidated in my presence because of all the superficial attention I receive because of how I look and I couldn't care less about the positively boring drab like the newest face yoga techniques or latest conquests of the school's sports teams the popular kids drone on about.

Without thinking, I dial Mum's mobile and press my phone against my ear.

It rings twice before she picks up, "Hello? Ariya is that you?"

"Hey Mum." My expression lightens up, "I was just..."

"Sweety?" My mother interrupts me, "Im so sorry but there's a patient in the emergency room and I need to go down and see her. We can talk over dinner in the evening. Sounds good?"

My grin deflates again, and I sigh quietly.

"Yeah, okay. Love you!" I mumble before cutting the call.

Mum's been busier at the hospital ever since she got promoted and I feel stupid when I try to share my problems with her. She's already ridden with motherly guilt because of the little time she can devote to me as she juggles her career and her budding relationship with Dr. Kale, a colleague.

Sometimes, I wish I was a slow learner. Maybe that way I could focus my energy on trying to learn my study material. Or maybe I wouldn't care at all and I'd be an ignorant girl basking in the attention I got, blissful in my own right.

But I'm not. Years of being alone have taught me to stay occupied and keep to myself. Maybe that's why I'd learnt so many things over the last year. I started with learning Urdu and German, moved on to playing the ukulele and learning how to whistle various symphonies. My latest project was mapping the school accurately due to lack of originality and nothing better to do.

From the corner of my eye I see Brett Harper, the school senior team's quarterback making his way up the bleachers, a large water bottle and towel in hand.

I inhale tensely. Brett has been obsessed with trying to get me to go out with him since the beginning of summer break and if it isn't obvious already, I do not want to.

"Hey Ariya." He drawls once he's close and I look up from my book slowly, "How're you?"

"Just peachy." I force my mouth to form a polite smile.

"So did you skip class to come and watch football practice today?" he breaks into a wide grin as he towels away the sweat on his face and neck, "I was pretty great on the field today wasn't I?"

"Yes! I don't understand much about football but I think you were great out there." I neatly slip my book back into my bag and close it hoping he'll get the message that one of us needs to leave.

Brett is pretty all right. He's plays decent football and is hard working but he's not my type. There was a point when I enjoyed the subtle attention he gave me, but it got annoying after he started getting clingy and overly friendly because he's really not my type. He towers over me like a bulky obelisk, is obnoxious and has a terrible habit of reading into people's action too much, which I suspect he is doing right now, because he sits down next to me.

"Yes, I know right?" he scratches the back of his neck shyly, "If we win this season, I have a shot at getting into one of the Ivy Leagues. I'm sure you'll have no problem getting accepted."

"You flatter me." I smile politely once again, "I suppose I should go, my next class is in five minutes."

Brett grabs my hand and stops me as I get up.

"Brett, let go of my hand." My tone terse as I tug.

He stands up and releases my hand gently. "Ariya, can't you see how much I adore you? Yet you still push me away all the time. What else do you expect from me?"

I roll my eyes.

"Brett, you're a great person, you really are. But I'm not interested and I honestly thought I made it clear. Now I really need to go." I say impatiently but he manages to block my way.

"Come on Ariya, we'll be great together." He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, a gesture that is meant to be sweet but it only adds fuel to my building temper.

"Brett this isn't funny anymore. Step away if you want this situation to be civil. Right now!" I grit angrily.

Clearly, no one ever taught him how to deal with rejection because the next moment I see Brett's mouth descending towards mine at an alarming speed.

I panic and without thinking I bring my knee up to his groin, causing him to jump backward as he doubles over. He reaches out to grab my arm but I beat him to it and punch his face hard, in one swift motion just like how my father taught me a few years ago.

Blood splatters out from his left nostril because of one of the rings I wear, some  of bright crimson smearing onto my knuckles.

Everything feels so wrong and right at the same time. The adrenaline coursing through my veins blurs everything.

I watch as guilt splashes immediately across Brett's face and he makes no attempt to hurt me, except blocking my next blow.

I crumple back, realization hitting me as he starts to slink away wordlessly. I pray that no one saw this but it's too late and the damage is done. I see the coach racing up the stairs to the top of the bleachers.

•><•

Ariya can be a little too much at times but I'm sure you'll warm up eventually.

I think we all have our bad days when we question our lives and Ariya was just having one of them.

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#savepalestine