Jesus, high school. what a pain in the as*. So awkward and smelly and confusing and turned around, jaded, corrupt, perfect, perfectly devised system, perfectly horrible, hilarious, spontaneous...aaaaand fast holy shhhiizzz man we're halfway there! It's like I am halfway through a race; I think I know how everything will turn out because everyones positions are uniform and equable. Really, however, the bowlegged forrest gump looking kid in the back is going to take off in a couple yards and surprise the crap out of everyone. And to know the end is near? It's sad actually. who would've thought..?
Anyways I just felt the need to blab momentarily.
But the paradox of it all? There are so many that pop in my head... But the most frustrating of them all to me is it seems that we, the students, are expected to make adult decisions, and still are not given adult choices, options and opportunities. It seems unfair to have to put up with being told what to do, how to live and love, when to do things, what to eat, what to wear or more importantly: what not to wear, when we can pee(like we can even control it), the list never ends. The funny part to me is the all of the people molding us, "guiding" us, number one seem to be incredibly bitter, piqued,scarred,perturbed and are definitely no better off then any of us. Secondly these teachers seem to be completely shocked when we fall flat on our gluteous and they seems to hold no guilt for any of it. I'm not trying to say that we shouldn't take any of the fall for our..miscalculations or that our leaders should be expect failure.I guess what I don't understand is if we can't be free to explore all the possibilities, choose our own paths, blah, blah, blah... How can we be held accountable for where or how the bridge ends?
The whole ordeal just reminds me of a day at kindergarten thats going so great until you have to play follow the leader and the greasy kid who has a nervous gas problem,coke bottle glasses (but is still blind as a bat) is the chosen maestro. At the end of the day you'll probably end up prying crayons out of your nose.
My mom said that once after getting a flat tire on her bike a doctor she was working for told this:
" Ouuu howlt tiightee to deez days, deez ones ob yo' yout. dey are dee bessht, ouu will shee soon enought. Ou will be tinking, Zittlesberger, you are a shmaart man i shoud hab liiisenteded to you before I couldn't ride any longaa. Dr. Zittlesberger why did I forshake my yout hmm? dat ish what ou will tinking. "
p.s. my mom does a horrible zittlesberger accent.
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