The Rhombus

A rhombus.

No.

A shape so infinite that infinity itself wouldn’t be able to fill it’s line. There’s no name to fit a shape like that at all. If there were, I know it’s nowhere near my body type. What a rhombus has to do with anything, I have absolutely no idea. My brain wants to create a name for the shape that my mind so desperately wants to be real, so I shoot out the first name of a shape I think of.

Just a rhombus. One of the square-like shaped diamonds. Ah, yes, the diamond. Like one of those big ol’ rocks that the pretty girls wish to obtain from literally almost any guy they meet before they realize most men are all the same in their wants. That’s the thing, though. They aren’t. Some may hope for the sex part of things but they know it’s mostly a bonus and they look for other types of personality traits as well. My body shivers.

What is gender anyways? Male, female, we’re all the same on the inside. Skeletons, bones, blood, and a beating heart. A well known comical fact about the skeleton would be the fact that the bones are actually wet and not dry. Credit for that one goes out to whoever discovered it, I honestly don’t know who did, but they’ve got a lot of time on their hands to have figured that one out. Time on their hands… it’s a funny notion to want in the first place, because one of the most friendliest yet evil things on this earth is the concept of time.

The bell rings. “Pencils down, everyone, place your tests in the basket on your way out,” the teacher belches from behind his desk.

Shit.

Most of the test was completed except for the last question, and to be fair I’ve got a little thing people like to call “Dave.”

This is ADHD.

Did you know that a person with this disorder could spend so many hours wasted away on a single topic ? It’s called hyperfixation or hyperfocus. One of them is a little more permanent than the other. It’s one of my favorite aspects of the Attention Deficit Hyper-activity Disorder. I’m not exactly thrilled to have the disorder, myself, but I wouldn’t know so much about psychology if I didn’t have the bloody disorder in the first place.

I shoved my books into my locker and grabbed the red folder off the top shelf. Once, my brother was in school, and the most he carried was a single folder from class to class, as well as a pencil, and for some reason that version of a school model stuck with me. I began to wonder if it was a bad idea, as the papers billowed out of each flap.

Discouraged by the fact that I didn’t finish the test in the class before, I pulled out the fully finished paperwork form formally known as homework, and passed it to the person in front of me, and the pattern continued until the teacher had all the homework pages in her hands. I began to wonder how often she cut her hair, for it to seemingly look shorter every time I attended class mentally. Yes, sometimes I do completely zone out of class during the most inopportune moments. Every class almost feels the same, and honestly it’s such a snooze fest for me. We’re born speaking English, and I really don’t see a need to learn how to write it out in a billion ways, even if writing is my own personal escape from this reality.

The rest of the day was a blur.