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(This is a story/perspective I wrote from the view of the skeleton in our science lab at school.)
I stand here, every day and night. I wait here, watching students come and go. Teachers use my frame to teach these students, students, who, like me, don’t want to be here. Believe it or not I used to be a student once; I had friends, and a family, but now I must be content to just watch from a distance the love and laughter of friendship. I know their struggles, I understand their pain, I can relate to the looks of boredom across the sea of faces. But sadly, unlike me, when the bell rings, they can leave and be free to do as they please; if I had tear ducts, this would make me cry. I weep for the students, young adults who have no clue how short life really is, and don’t understand the importance of every decision they make and how it will affect the rest of their lives. I can’t warn them of the dangers of stupidity and over-confidence, so I must be content to watch them leave, day after day, week after week, year after year. I guess I should get used to it, always watching, never speaking. Goodbye, friends.
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