Truce

I'm telling you now; this post has nothing to do with my recent daily life and concerns a mental process I use to keep myself stoic. You have been warned.

I made a truce-or a pact is more appropriate- with myself several months back, a few weeks after TYS auditions, which, just like All state, I failed (but not enough so that I wouldn't make the cut!). Even though it was less traumatizing, I made a promise with myself: I would keep myself in control. I would put a steel lid on the box containing my bitter anger and petty complaints, and weld it in place, so that I would have to blow torch it to let it back out again. In exchange, I would be able to control my facial expressions (mostly of pain) and bite back my retorts till no one was looking. And at that point I could hide in corner and cry myself out, opening myself to all the trifles and biting remarks that had been said to me over the past weeks, letting them blowtorch my Box of control and letting all of my pathetic tears out, before returning in the morning, empty, mellow, and ready to start the whole process all over again. Never again would I have to listen to my parents complain about my sensitivity when I leave the table, my face a mess. Finally, I found a solution to prevent myself from sitting next to 303 in humiliation, tears dripping down my face as I silently listen to its criticisms about every aspect of my existence that always hit home in some twisted way.
Outside of my box, I also have another shield that prevents anyone from the privilege of adding to my Box. I call it my Shell. It kind of works like a private group on Facebook. I'm the administrator, and anyone I'm already acquainted with is a hacker attempting to get into the group. Of course, the hackers aren't the only ones that can damage my Shell. Ms. O'Rawe bears me no enmity, I believe, nor does she show me much kindness, either. But she as she was the one who delivered the news that I did not make a learning gain for my math EoG's. Even though I handed her the hammer, she's the one responsible for for using it to send finger-like cracks all along my Shell by setting up the pizza party.
My Shell can also be strengthened as well. And you may think I need compliments or a good day/grade, but really I'm strengthened most when I feel normal, when I sm average, and no one is watching me too closely or judging me in any way at all, good or bad. If I could be just one person in an endless sea of faceless students, going about my day in a robotic manner, my Shell would be as tough as a titanium alloy by now. But sadly, life as a student is fraught with constant change and diversity, where people change you and are change by others, and, unfortunately, a place where no one's feelings or judgement can be spared.