We lose at life.
This project is total, unmitigated bullshit. Who am I? A boring, stereotypical, whiny fourteen-year-old girl, that’s who. That’s all that needs to be said. No one wants to hear about me. I’m exactly like every other person in this school. Whoop-dee-fucking-do. If I was to die right now, everyone would probably just shrug their shoulders and move the hell on. Wow! One person out of over six billion is dead! Who the fuck cares! It’s not like it makes one iota of difference whether I live or die. I’m not going to find the cure for cancer, people. My life and yours are not meaningful in any way, shape, or form. Deal. We’re not special. We’re not in the school because of merit; we’re here because someone related to us has a fat wallet.
Maybe if the administration would drop the pretentious crap, I’d be willing to forgive them. But no, we have to sing the Soviet-style school hymn every fucking assembly. Allow me to barf.
Maybe if the administration would drop the pretentious crap, I’d be willing to forgive them. But no, we have to sing the Soviet-style school hymn every fucking assembly. Allow me to barf.