I'm a try hard, nothing more. I do my best daily to please everyone, but it's all in vain.

I sigh as I walk into the class.

I hate it. Being perceived as the 'Teacher's pet', 'A goody two-shoes'. I just want to do something great with my life. I want to be great. I don't want to walk through it as another face in the crowd. 

I want to be someone. I don't even want to be rich, I just want to be recognised for my hard work. But I never am.

"Oh, everyone shut up! The teacher's pet's arrived!" Marcus yelled. 

I sighed and put my pencil case on my desk, then I grabbed my little fantasy book and started reading it. Waiting desperately to get sucked into that magical realm and out of that bloody classroom where nobody could care less about me.

I mean, they do care about me. They care to make me cry, make me feel bad, make me feel insignificant. And they do! But I swore I'd only cry at home, feel bad at home and feel insignificant and out of place inside my bruised soul.

More and more of my classmates walked in and looked at me as though they couldn't wait to see me shattered, bruised and battered.

But I will not give them the satisfaction. I try to keep on reminding myself that they are only jealous, that they are only hurting me because they are hurt, 'hurt people hurt people' - my mom always says, that they actually admire me. 

But I can't bring myself to actually believe these words. 

I read one more chapter. Then Mr. Green walks in.

I adore physics with my whole being. It is literally everything. My hand flies up a couple of times over the lesson, but it gets put down in an instant when Claire whispers 'What a try hard!' to her friends. 

And all at once, the bell rings for the first time.

Five more hours of tremendous suffering.

French, English, History, Bio all go on the same as physics. 

And then it came, Maths - also known as my worst nightmare. Mr. Bad Guy (okay, his name is actually Mr. Watson, but I hate him and he is a bad guy, so...) always wants to humiliate me in front of the class. He walked in all smug in his expensive suit and tie and barked "Miss Calvin! Go to the board and solve exercise 78!" 

Exercise 78 from his document which has been the most difficult exercise at the International Maths Olympiad. Yay.

I felt my knees weak as I approached the white board.

"Are you there yet?" he yelled.

I walked faster, ignoring the panic attack that was about to take place. 

3 things I see: Mr. Bad Guy, the board, text books.

3 things I feel: Panic, Fear, Anxiety.

3 things I hear: his yell, my classmates laughing, my heart pounding.

I got this! (No, I do not.)

I grabbed the marker. I started solving the problem. 

I literally only wrote two things down when he started screaming at me:

"You don't even know elementary maths?! F! Go to your seat!"

Everyone started laughing at me. He started teaching. While not forgetting to make me feel worse by asking me in a mocking tone "Are you with me, Calvin?" [insert laughter from my classmate], "Is this too complicated for you, Calvin?" [insert laughter from my classmate].

Then, the bell rang and I ran home to cry to my parents.

And tomorrow, I'll do it all again.