School again tomorrow, fabulous. I can almost remember a time when I didn’t mind so much but it’s too far from my reach. I guess I’ll have to let it stay.
I don’t mind seeing my friends, classmates but the holidays is what we live for after all and we can see each other out of school if we wish it so.
I hate school.
And I’m spending my last day of freedom get my hair plaited. Not that I dislike that of course… well actually, I do but what I mean is that I’m ever grateful to Auntie whenever she does it and I like talking to her and listening to her talk to my mum, I like the warmth. I just dislike getting my hair done in the sense I have to sit around until my butt goes numb and try and navigate through TV channels with a pissy Sky box with a hormonal remote.
Oh, and it’s cold outside and I have to actually get dressed.
But, alas, first days hold great expectations (God, I hope not literally, that book is torture), and I must dress to impress the new headmistress… not that she’ll notice anyway but no, we have to be instilled with a sense of responsibility in the way we dress and are herded like cattle through the gates of hell into the hands of anally retentive mini satans that poke us with sticks when we step out of line. Their perceived line, of course. There isn’t really one but they just like to be anal, and in charge, and general pains in the arse and forbidding of freedom of expression through clothes and accessories. Not that all of them are like that. Just the school faculty and head teachers and what not – “Them Up There”. Way up, if you catch my drift.
Welcome the the wonderful world of modern education.
