fuck school
<< 10:35 p.m. - Friday, Dec. 13, 2002 >>
End to a brutal day of perhaps my own creation. Only Friday and one more week of hellish mess left. I just want to rest. Lie down and read, and open presents and try and relax.

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Walking down an empty side street in the dark makes me nervous, I turn my head every so often to check from invisible assailants. I�ve got my thumb between the pages in my book, my gray hood sticking out over my coat and looking slightly bum-ish. Remembering that I cried today. I cling to the anguish I felt. Everyone looked shocked. My face flushed, eyes red and wet, and that stupid sad mouth that makes me want to damn the world for my stupidity. I cried because of a fucking grade. They say we should care and wonder why we get upset when stuff like this happens.

Ms. Aloveah sat there smiling at me while I choked my words out; hand shaking so badly I had to set my paper on the table, breath going so fast I had to stop a second to catch it. I would check at her reactions, and always she seemed engaged, urging me on. I was reassured, happy at my hard work that would be paid off soon. I questioned as hard as I could, but when I stood up there, everything I had practiced fell away and I was left stumbling over the remnants of what I meant to say. Wanting to rush out of the room and throw up in the hall.

The end of the class she called the three of us up there and stabbed me with a grin on her face. Three 3�s and a 2. I could have died. I wanted to slap her. Do you know how long it took me to work this all out? Do you know how hard it is for me to stand in front of a group of sudden strangers? Oh no, you don�t, you�re the teacher, you do it everyday, pitying yourself for room of hungry angst that surrounds you. Bitch, I hate you now. I hate you.

I�ll cry on. Damning the school system. There has got to be a better way than this shit.