Dear DreamBook- My Pastel Goth Life – Entry #30

First day back.

Everything smelled like dry erase markers and nervous sweat.

The room was so quiet.

Everyone sat like we were at a funeral for freedom.

So there I am (purple nail polish still chipped from summer) sleeves pulled over my hands with those emo half-sleeves we all wore (the kind that did nothing but make you feel protected) sitting in history class, trying not to dissolve from boredom.

Mr. W starts talking about what we’re covering this year. Wars. Revolutions. Dusty dead old men. I’m spacing out, thinking about absolutely nothing, and then…

He goes, totally straight-faced:

“Each textbook costs seventy-five thousand dollars.”

I swear on my eyeliner (I lost it. I’m in the corner, full-on biting my sleeve, trying not to die laughing. Like actual hoodie-in-mouth, eyes-watering, silent-snorting madness)

And no one else laughed. Not even a twitch. They all just sat there, nodding, blinking, breathing like… NPCs. Soulless, school-issued NPCs.

And me? I’m practically levitating in the corner like some glitching goth hyena.

Mr.W didn’t even smirk.

Just turned back to the board and kept going like nothing happened.

Legend.

Sometimes I wonder if I live in a different reality.

But honestly? I wouldn’t trade it.

That joke was gold 💀

🖤 currently overthinking, 🖤

– Me <3