On The Run
Dear Violet and Allegra,
Hi, it's me writing from the year 13 common room on Wednesday, the 27th of February, during period 1. Yes, Vi and Leg, I am in a place I am not supposed to be in. Shock horror. Letting go of the hypocritical embarrassment of my character, I'll use the cliche "Let me explain."
This morning I had to attend form class. As I was sitting with A and M, these kids from my scholarship class came around to pick up a girl from the same class. Because I couldn't stand the thought of walking with them, I simply ignored the fact I needed to go along with them and be on time. By the end of form class, I walked to where our scholarship class is typically meant to be in and saw that another teacher was in the classroom. I asked where the class was, and she told me the room they were in and that they were doing a workshop. I climbed the stairs to where the classroom was, but upon getting a glimpse of the class being all focused and silent, I couldn't bear the thought of barging in and finding a seat for myself. My anxiety strikes again. So, I walked to the library, unzipped my bag to pull out my laptop, and realized my pencil case wasn't inside. I swore I made a mental note this morning that my pencil case was on my bed, next to my laptop, but because I am a mind of forgetfulness I had packed my laptop but not my pencil case sitting next to it. That makes sense, right? Since no one had been looking after me as I sat alone in the library, I dared to walk out of the school gates and took a stroll back to my house to pick up my pencil case. I walked all the way back to the front door of the library but couldn't make myself go in as I would feel like a fool for re-entering, so here I am, seeking refuge in the common room surrounded by other people who couldn't be bothered to go to their own classes.
God. That was just as much of a pain to write as it was to read. I can't get myself to strategically structure my words when I'm explaining an experience. Storytelling is a fatal weakness of mine, even though I know of my decent abilities to write paragraphs of the descriptive kind. But since that was the least romantic of stories, the structure shaped itself into a mess.
One of the deputy principals just came in and asked, with intimidating instincts, why so many of us are in the room rather than being in the library, which is where year 13s are supposed to be when our teachers are absent. My heart increased in pulses per second as I closed my laptop and slipped it into its case. The feeling worsened when she went through the roll for a class I'm not a part of. Luckily, I'm sitting pretty far away from the rest of the kids in the room for her not to notice. Either that, or I get a free pass for being where I'm not supposed to be. The joys of being a science kid -- abiding by the expectations of a private school.
The period's about to end, so I better get going to calculus.
See you,
Maui
Hi, it's me writing from the year 13 common room on Wednesday, the 27th of February, during period 1. Yes, Vi and Leg, I am in a place I am not supposed to be in. Shock horror. Letting go of the hypocritical embarrassment of my character, I'll use the cliche "Let me explain."
This morning I had to attend form class. As I was sitting with A and M, these kids from my scholarship class came around to pick up a girl from the same class. Because I couldn't stand the thought of walking with them, I simply ignored the fact I needed to go along with them and be on time. By the end of form class, I walked to where our scholarship class is typically meant to be in and saw that another teacher was in the classroom. I asked where the class was, and she told me the room they were in and that they were doing a workshop. I climbed the stairs to where the classroom was, but upon getting a glimpse of the class being all focused and silent, I couldn't bear the thought of barging in and finding a seat for myself. My anxiety strikes again. So, I walked to the library, unzipped my bag to pull out my laptop, and realized my pencil case wasn't inside. I swore I made a mental note this morning that my pencil case was on my bed, next to my laptop, but because I am a mind of forgetfulness I had packed my laptop but not my pencil case sitting next to it. That makes sense, right? Since no one had been looking after me as I sat alone in the library, I dared to walk out of the school gates and took a stroll back to my house to pick up my pencil case. I walked all the way back to the front door of the library but couldn't make myself go in as I would feel like a fool for re-entering, so here I am, seeking refuge in the common room surrounded by other people who couldn't be bothered to go to their own classes.
God. That was just as much of a pain to write as it was to read. I can't get myself to strategically structure my words when I'm explaining an experience. Storytelling is a fatal weakness of mine, even though I know of my decent abilities to write paragraphs of the descriptive kind. But since that was the least romantic of stories, the structure shaped itself into a mess.
One of the deputy principals just came in and asked, with intimidating instincts, why so many of us are in the room rather than being in the library, which is where year 13s are supposed to be when our teachers are absent. My heart increased in pulses per second as I closed my laptop and slipped it into its case. The feeling worsened when she went through the roll for a class I'm not a part of. Luckily, I'm sitting pretty far away from the rest of the kids in the room for her not to notice. Either that, or I get a free pass for being where I'm not supposed to be. The joys of being a science kid -- abiding by the expectations of a private school.
The period's about to end, so I better get going to calculus.
See you,
Maui
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