story that is true
I think when I go back home I’ll miss the smell of cigarette smoke. When its ten below out you’re considered dim to go have a smoke. “It’s a social custom.” My mom says. I wish I wasn’t so aware of the immediate effects of smoking because I would love to be unhonest with everyone and ask to have a smoke, really implying that I wanted to have more intimate interaction with them. The glow of fire entrancing both of us. Like candle magic I practiced as a youngster. But now instead of the inhalation of burning wax elevating us, it was rat poison, as the ads inform us. So like I was saying about home, its lovely there, it really is. I never thought so until I signed up to leave.
There is a boy in my class whose parents are getting a divorce. I found this out when another boy who was feeling belligerent and hurt because of different instances that had happened years ago made not one but a couple comments about the demented personalities of the boys parents. This boy continued on his work. Then someone dragged the first hurt boy away to tell him about the second hurt boy’s parent’s situation. I witnessed all this and immediately wanted a cigarette. I took a nap instead. When I awoke hours later I picked up a book I hadn’t finished, Privilege, Power, and Difference and tried to finish it while I thought about “answering the prompt” which was “How does race, class, gender, religion, sexual orientation and physical ability impact my life?” Jesus, all that in a five page paper. It will never fit. This dampens my ambition to even start the paper. It’s expected by the teachers to be as the kids say “half-assed”. Not to mention the prompt is boring. They are always boring.
There is a boy in my class whose parents are getting a divorce. I found this out when another boy who was feeling belligerent and hurt because of different instances that had happened years ago made not one but a couple comments about the demented personalities of the boys parents. This boy continued on his work. Then someone dragged the first hurt boy away to tell him about the second hurt boy’s parent’s situation. I witnessed all this and immediately wanted a cigarette. I took a nap instead. When I awoke hours later I picked up a book I hadn’t finished, Privilege, Power, and Difference and tried to finish it while I thought about “answering the prompt” which was “How does race, class, gender, religion, sexual orientation and physical ability impact my life?” Jesus, all that in a five page paper. It will never fit. This dampens my ambition to even start the paper. It’s expected by the teachers to be as the kids say “half-assed”. Not to mention the prompt is boring. They are always boring.