Part 1 PC!
by Harry
Posted to Stories on 2002-11-11 08:22:00
I’m experiment with writing differently. Tell me what you think thus far.
Part 1:
“Traipsing around these hollow hallways can make anyone go completely insane. That’s what these walls do to you… no one would admit it, but they do. The lockers all lines up in the ratty old conformed walls of yesterday, and the muffled voices of teachers and chalk behind closed, thick, doors. Kids in the hallway, (Someone is always in the hallways.) That’s the only part that can still make me smile. The teachers with no classes, going off to hall duties they wish they didn’t have, along with the Dean’s herding to a classroom problem, or talking business with someone, anyone. And we find ourselves stuck in this melancholy of teenage life. For 8 hours of our day, we pile onto each other, and try to pick up obscure facts we can go home and blurt out to feel smart. Or maybe its all for that one moment, where you interrupt a bleeding class and yell “Oh shit! I get it now.” But honestly, how many times a day, no, how many times a week does that happen? Sad, isn’t it. Yet The administration blame it on the teachers, because god forbid we accept a little responsibility for being the jackasses this school is known for. In harsh times, this school falls apart. Not to rant about the administration, but having your school ran by a group of well off suits you’ve never met, who seem to have attention spans less than my dog is more painful then putting my head in a vise. Principals, grants, ideas, concepts come and go like the wind in fall. And we are the victims, we are the criminals, we are the school they so proudly fuck around with.”
-With times as hard as these, personally I’d rather go to sleep-
It was a Monday, of another very, very long week at Woodlands High school and I was running late- Again. Now things don’t change, but that’s not because I like them, it seemed more like because I was way to lazy to care enough to change them. I could complain about it, I could complain like a pro, but when it came to action, personally I’d rather go to sleep. A comfortable bed over a revolution any day is my motto (not exactly, but it should be). I’d watch a revolution though. I’d gladly watch my peers revolt and pillage, and rape, and plunder the school, the teachers and administration, and any student for or against the revolution, just for the matter of being a bad ass. I’d gladly watch my friends die in battle, if I was disgusted, what type of American would I be?! I believe in my country, and everything it stands for. (Drugs, sex, violence, and overall ENTERTAINMENT!) But I’ll be damned if you find me trying to start trouble. I just like to plow along with those monotonous, horrible, mind bending bells, to my next class searching for yet another moment of complete truth, which I obviously wouldn’t find. At Woodlands, you except the worst, and pray for the best. There’s nothing else to in this world we live in. Well, look at me, off on a rant. Where was I? Oh yeah, another Monday morning. A beautiful Monday morning, it’s hard to see a beautiful Monday because of all that’s caught up with Monday. Work, end of weekend, and all that jazz… But if you find the right Monday, and if you’re running on time, just stop, look at the sky and smile. And enjoy the fact that this is life. This is what people write about in books, this is what everything revolves around. Now I seem to be lost, and no one I know is around. Well I know them, but I can’t relate to them on any plain. I float around like a fly in your soup. Everyone notices, but no one says a thing. I’m afraid one day, someone will call me out as the outsider I am, and I’ll be mauled. But it hasn’t happened yet. I’m on the fringes. That’s where the excitement happens. But how much excitement comes on a Monday morning? Or a Monday night for that matter. Honestly, for me, not much.
