So, I was sitting in class, a few days ago, thinking what I should write about next. A teacher was droning on and on about how we're not supposed to waste our time with Twitter, Facebook (cyberspace, in general) and focus on the charming political leaders of the last few decades. I'm no fan of politics or leaders, yes, but they're both important for the functioning of different entities. I half-listened and half-slept through the teacher's diligent lecture and observations – that's when I noticed the teacher's unnaturally peachy-pink cheeks. I squinted my eyes and tried to focus on her cheeks; I was right, she had used a very subtle and immensely flattering blush on her cheeks. She took my sudden squinty-eyed enthusiasm quite positively and went on talking about politics in the 1970's as if I was the only student in the entire class. In a way, I was the only student. 93% of the class was asleep with their eyes wide open, 7% of them were jotting down whatever they possibly could and there I was, the only one, maintaining strange eye-contact with the teacher and nodding at whatever I thought was right. Little did she know that she had given me something I could write about, something that would get my literary juices flowing at 3 in the morning.
18 August 2013
On the night I 'rediscovered' myself, I realized one thing – I had done everything important wrong and it was time to start over. All my life, I had been a really, really strange person. I have always been the orange amongst saccharine sweet apples, the bitter aftertaste of a mint candy, the sad ending to a perfectly sweet story... Which, sadly, sums up my state of being friendless. Sure, I have a few odd friends here and there, but to be honest, most of my 'friends' are fictional characters, inanimate objects or a combination of both. Okay, I admit – my 'circle' consists of, say, six people, at the very least. Or most. Why is that? I'll tell you.
Labels: Personal fancies