I get very angry in my math class.
I wrote this yesterday as I tried to retain my sanity.
Pound. Pound Pound. My seat thumps from the ape behind me.
Staring at the ceiling, I try to save my mind from the insanity of the classroom. I wonder, as I stare at the ceiling, what's up with all the ******** holes? I imagin pencils stuck into them. As all this pondering goes on, the ape behind me drums his fingers loudly and blows raspberries.
Oh how I wish I had tried two years ago. I could have been spared this torment.
I feel my I.Q drop by the second as the black chick and the mexican girl squabble across the classroom. Makes me wonder, what happened to the english language? When did slang enslave all the lovely words that were once so common? Even the teacher forsakes them.
And still, the damned thumping continues.
I feel the beginnings of a head ache. Or perhaps it's what the dropping of intelligence feels like?
A paper ball flies by my face. Anger level rises.
The improper use of words. Oh, how it pains me so.
But...at least I got an A on my test?
I look at the clock for a small comfort, but alas, it will not give it. Its long black arm rests solidly on the six. Thirty more minutes of this...
I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Scream till my voice grows hoarse.
My lips are dry and peeling. I fight the temptation to rip the skin off.
There seems to be a calm in the storm of madness. I treasure it for its few precious moments. I know it will soon be gone.
Again, the improper use of words. Silent whimpers o'er take my body. My breast quivers with them.
At the twelve. Freedom at last.
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