(no subject)
It's the end of the world as we know it.....Okay, maybe not. But for me, close enough.
I moved. I now live about an hour or so away from where I used to live. And go to school with no Latin.I loath it. Never have I ever wanted not to go to school so badly. Really. Me. Dislike school. I barely speak all day. I have no reason to go. Sorry, Lina. But I think I should quit. Go somewhere else or find a way to graduate which won't leave me nowhere for college.
Looking at it in writing, seeing that I want to be through it NOW, is strange. I remember not long ago when every day I'd be happy after leaving Latin...and now. Now I have to take it online and every day I'm like a ghost no one sees me, no one talks to me. I may as well not exist. Except for my brother, Lina, and a few teachers who seem to like me well enough.
I've never really liked my age mates. They are far too....Annoying. If they talk to me at all it's something short, they want me to get them something or they accidentally bumped into me. No one really cares. In fact, most of my teachers didn't notice the two days I was absent. I think three did.
I'm tired. I want it to end. I want to start working on what I want to do, not focusing on useless junk. I'm bored with walking the twisted halls of Hell, wraiths in varying clothes of every race, background, et cetera, yet all of them looking exactly alike. The glint in their eyes vaguely condescending when they alight on me, their manners crude, rude, uncultured. They all speak the same way. Loud, irritating sounds which grate at my nerves and flesh, and in such terrible English! They sound as though they all live through some form of ebonics or another. And all of them thinks that they're the greatest thing to hit the world in an eternity.
All I am to those brats is a thing. I walk, I talk, I speak so politely and quiet...and yet I'm nothing but a shadow. Who really cares about me? I bet only one person in that entire school would care if something happened to me.
Who am I to complain? They don't know me. It's not their fault that they don't. A few of them who have regard me as strange...I don't want to be their friends. I don't want anymore friends at all. I want all of my old ones.
My Social Anxiety keeps kicking in at odd moments. I'll be sitting in Health and my breath will quicken, my head spin. The voices will be harsher. In art only my current project has instilled any comfort or interest in me. It was of an image repeated in four different colour schemes. I chose an Aztec Temple, complete with the blood at the top. How me.
I'm scared. I'd never admit it out loud, but I'm frightened out of my mind. I literally sit and think every day when I'm at home that I don't want to go to school, that it's not right. God help me, I think, but I can't go! There are people there, people with those terribly harsh voices and those cutting stares. God, don't make me go....please don't make me go. I can't do it again. I can't....oh God...
See? I'm shaking right now. Tears keep trying to come and my head is starting to ache in a dull way as I suppress them. It's Friday and I'm this afraid, this scared of going to school on Monday. But I can't help it...
Maybe I should just write a poem and get this entry through with. I know you guys must be tired of hearing about my miserable "social life"....So I'll stop.
Hey, Thanksgiving went well.....
There's a pressure 'gainst my fingertips,
It's throbbing right on time
To the voice that crudely tears and rips
My soul with such harsh rhyme.
It's strange, you see, I didn't know
That a voice could be so stark-
That it could cut in a soul sworn
To guard 'gainst ev'ry mark.
The rhymer's gaze has chanced on me
And it's seared to the bone.
It's left a scar for all to see
And had me flee alone.
I'll leave it there for now, although I don't think I'm finished with that one yet. It needs....more. I will also probably touch up on it. Strange, I almost never do that.
Oh well.
Valete.
I moved. I now live about an hour or so away from where I used to live. And go to school with no Latin.I loath it. Never have I ever wanted not to go to school so badly. Really. Me. Dislike school. I barely speak all day. I have no reason to go. Sorry, Lina. But I think I should quit. Go somewhere else or find a way to graduate which won't leave me nowhere for college.
Looking at it in writing, seeing that I want to be through it NOW, is strange. I remember not long ago when every day I'd be happy after leaving Latin...and now. Now I have to take it online and every day I'm like a ghost no one sees me, no one talks to me. I may as well not exist. Except for my brother, Lina, and a few teachers who seem to like me well enough.
I've never really liked my age mates. They are far too....Annoying. If they talk to me at all it's something short, they want me to get them something or they accidentally bumped into me. No one really cares. In fact, most of my teachers didn't notice the two days I was absent. I think three did.
I'm tired. I want it to end. I want to start working on what I want to do, not focusing on useless junk. I'm bored with walking the twisted halls of Hell, wraiths in varying clothes of every race, background, et cetera, yet all of them looking exactly alike. The glint in their eyes vaguely condescending when they alight on me, their manners crude, rude, uncultured. They all speak the same way. Loud, irritating sounds which grate at my nerves and flesh, and in such terrible English! They sound as though they all live through some form of ebonics or another. And all of them thinks that they're the greatest thing to hit the world in an eternity.
All I am to those brats is a thing. I walk, I talk, I speak so politely and quiet...and yet I'm nothing but a shadow. Who really cares about me? I bet only one person in that entire school would care if something happened to me.
Who am I to complain? They don't know me. It's not their fault that they don't. A few of them who have regard me as strange...I don't want to be their friends. I don't want anymore friends at all. I want all of my old ones.
My Social Anxiety keeps kicking in at odd moments. I'll be sitting in Health and my breath will quicken, my head spin. The voices will be harsher. In art only my current project has instilled any comfort or interest in me. It was of an image repeated in four different colour schemes. I chose an Aztec Temple, complete with the blood at the top. How me.
I'm scared. I'd never admit it out loud, but I'm frightened out of my mind. I literally sit and think every day when I'm at home that I don't want to go to school, that it's not right. God help me, I think, but I can't go! There are people there, people with those terribly harsh voices and those cutting stares. God, don't make me go....please don't make me go. I can't do it again. I can't....oh God...
See? I'm shaking right now. Tears keep trying to come and my head is starting to ache in a dull way as I suppress them. It's Friday and I'm this afraid, this scared of going to school on Monday. But I can't help it...
Maybe I should just write a poem and get this entry through with. I know you guys must be tired of hearing about my miserable "social life"....So I'll stop.
Hey, Thanksgiving went well.....
There's a pressure 'gainst my fingertips,
It's throbbing right on time
To the voice that crudely tears and rips
My soul with such harsh rhyme.
It's strange, you see, I didn't know
That a voice could be so stark-
That it could cut in a soul sworn
To guard 'gainst ev'ry mark.
The rhymer's gaze has chanced on me
And it's seared to the bone.
It's left a scar for all to see
And had me flee alone.
I'll leave it there for now, although I don't think I'm finished with that one yet. It needs....more. I will also probably touch up on it. Strange, I almost never do that.
Oh well.
Valete.