Last Seat

         I NEVER WANTED to take the last seat.

         Everytime our class moves to the other classroom, I always get picky when choosing the right seat. It’s not always easy since we never did have a permanent seating arrangement when we switch rooms. There’s the front row, the middle rows and the last row.

         I’ve made a mental note to myself to always pick a seat in the middle row since it has the least chance of ending up with having no one to talk to. Trust me. I’ve had enough experiences to prove that my class isn’t the best when it comes to sensitivity, even if it seems to be.

         Being a part of a class who is so opinionated, intelligent and admirable doesn’t always have the edge among everything else. Some of my classmates have been friends for a million years while others have their own coterie. It’s hard to be a part of their circle of friendship when they’re so tight. So when the time comes where I have to find a seat where I could really talk to some of my classmates, I’d have to make the right choice. Because sometimes even if you’ve already taken a seat, you might end up being kicked out.

         That’s what actually happened to me a while ago. Now I’m stuck here on the last seat at the end of the row, alone with no one to talk to. It would’ve been nice to talk to someone, even for a while. But to my dismay, everyone seems happy with each other’s company, talking and laughing about a joke I didn’t hear.

         Talk about bad luck.