text: When I was 16 I broke a broom handle in shop class. I was an awkward sophomore that shopped at thrift stores and dressed like a 70 year old man. Different for the sake of different. My nights were spent staying up late watching Cowboy Bebop, Outlaw Star, and Trigun. I think Adult Swim shaped who I am today, or maybe it was a culture or a muse I innately knew. When Adult Swim was over it was bedtime. Time to shut my eyes and let my mind run its marathon of everything that has, does, and will bother me. Waking up was suffering. Groggy, disheveled, and red eyed i would walk into my first class of the day, shop class. My shop teacher, a short porky man who was a bit different. He once called me into the backroom of the shop and asked "Adam have you been partaking before coming into my classes? It's your life to do what you want i just need to know because it's a safety concern." "Partaking?" I inquired. "Have you been smoking marijuana before coming into my classes?" he clarified. Now I had never partook and I made that clear but when I was telling my classmate who sat beside me he chuckled "That's so funny cuz I come into this class baked every morning and he has never asked me." Looking back I might see why he suspected me of this. Once I was holding a piece of oak wood up to the light to see which way the grain pattern was running so I could miter the board in the correct manner. As I was doing this I noticed the shop teacher staring at me strangely. I do wonder if he believed I saw the grain pattern moving about the board and changing colors. And of course there was me stumbling into class half awake looking as if someone had just used a fine tipped red sharpie to draw on my sclera. As we were cleaning up at the end of a class I was using the wide dusting broom. I had put the sawdust into a neat pile and went to shake the remaining dust out of the shammy when the wooden handle split in two, the ends of both resembling a stake. I stood incredulously with two halves of a broom and turned to the nearest student to inquire if he had witnessed this spectacle. I told him what happened hoping he might vouch for me and he most helpfully replied "I didn't see it happen". Now granted this was just a broom stick but as the janitor put it "25 years in janitorial service and I have never seen a one inch wooden dowel snapped like that". My teacher likewise seemed quite dubious of my story but having no proof of misconduct he let the whole thing go. The next class of the day was English with Mr. Perry. Mr. Perry didn't really teach. Though he did once instruct us to stop telling people that he didn't teach. Class would begin with a What's New? segment. Students would take turns telling about something, anything new. The first student raised his hand "Adam broke a broom in shop class". The class half-laughed. Mr Perry directed me to explain myself and immediately began to reject my story, lecturing "Things don't just break for no reason something must have happened so tell us what happened." I repeated my story and he shook his head and moved on to the next student. Years later I found out one of my classmates used to sell Marijuana to Mr. Perry. Mr. Perry definitely partook. I had a friend in shop class, Mike. He was the one who ratted me out during What's New?. Mike and I had a great time together as we were both comfortably weird. Once Mike caught a fly and kept it as a pet inside his clear Bic pen. He had ripped its wings off so it couldn't fly away. I wonder now if Mike had some abandonment issues. Of all people I thought would believe me it would have to be Mike. When I sought validation of my story from him he replied "It's just a broom your not gonna get in trouble why don't you just tell us what happened." It was at the moment I felt crushed and alone and I knew no one would ever believe me. Now this situation was quite innocent but it makes a person wonder what one would do if the situation was not as such. It's a strange feeling to be the only person who knows what happened and have no one believe you. Your story is strange, improbable, too simple and yet it's true and no one will ever believe you. Sit in that dark dank corner you liar and don't come out until you are ready to tell the truth. The truth? The truth you say! I will tell you the truth. The truth is that I am the only person that will ever know what happened to that broom.