The taste of freedom...
...is the Innocent milkshake.
Twenty-three exams down, none to go.
*burns school tie in a satanic, rebellious ritual*
I have considered setting all school books alight, and throwing them out of the window to burn on the roof, to the sound of manic cackling, but I doubt my parents would consent. I will have to be content with the ripping of books, paper and pencil case into shreds. It may take muscle power, but that I've got, having sacrificed my sanity for 45 minutes at the gym.
(And no, the treadmill did not run riot, nor did it pull me under into a machanic whirring of cogs, nor did I feel that incredible urge to stop moving in mid run and let myself be catapulted into the arms of the fitness instructer, who no doubt is at permanent stand-by for such an occassion.)
Walking back from school, (listening to the words "You try to be a lady|But you're walkin' like a sour kraut") I imagined how a sour kraut would walk, could a boiled vegetable flop off the plate. I imagine it to be more of a crawl, a dragging of mush across the ground...
I took note of the shreds of burnt ties hanging from lamposts, and thought...never again will I have to unwillingly endure the mad rush in the corridors, the incessant quizzing and obsession about sex, the hidious yellow (yellow!!) shoes of the deputy head, or her puckered face of constant discontent.
*does a victory dance with a milkshake beard*
Twenty-three exams down, none to go.
*burns school tie in a satanic, rebellious ritual*
I have considered setting all school books alight, and throwing them out of the window to burn on the roof, to the sound of manic cackling, but I doubt my parents would consent. I will have to be content with the ripping of books, paper and pencil case into shreds. It may take muscle power, but that I've got, having sacrificed my sanity for 45 minutes at the gym.
(And no, the treadmill did not run riot, nor did it pull me under into a machanic whirring of cogs, nor did I feel that incredible urge to stop moving in mid run and let myself be catapulted into the arms of the fitness instructer, who no doubt is at permanent stand-by for such an occassion.)
Walking back from school, (listening to the words "You try to be a lady|But you're walkin' like a sour kraut") I imagined how a sour kraut would walk, could a boiled vegetable flop off the plate. I imagine it to be more of a crawl, a dragging of mush across the ground...
I took note of the shreds of burnt ties hanging from lamposts, and thought...never again will I have to unwillingly endure the mad rush in the corridors, the incessant quizzing and obsession about sex, the hidious yellow (yellow!!) shoes of the deputy head, or her puckered face of constant discontent.
*does a victory dance with a milkshake beard*
kiwiqueen - 22. Jun, 20:42
What are you going to do next?
Alexander x
If you mean what comes after the nothingness, I would like to say take a gap year to visit the sea and become a pebble-skimming professional, but sadly, that won't happen. Instead, it will be college. English, Critical Thinking, History, French and one other undecided subject. The world is my oyster. (erlack)