Birthday Girl

That would be me.

This post is one day late, actually. Before you ask, yes, I was very close to having a birthday once every four years. Except I wasn't even born in a leap year, but everyone asks.

Your next question might be: why would I be one day late?

I spent the night of my birthday working on a school project. And just as I finally finished it and hobbled off to my bed, I realized just how much school has dominated my life.

I spend a third of my day in school. Let's assume the weekends and the too-rare holidays balance out with the homework. For that one third of my life, I have given them my time, my effort, my hope, my joy, my freedom, my dignity, my trust.

In return, I get eight hours of boredom every day, plus notes on things I already knew. Someone should contact Greenpeace.

I've given too much to stop giving now. But I will never give them my tears. Not when I fail my test, not when I break their "rules", not when I spend my birthday writing a paper I don't really want to write.

My tears are the one thing I hold back.

Some more food for thought here.

1 comment:

  1. Hey! Sorry I'm late - I hope you enjoyed your birthday, or at least a bit of it! Did you get any insanely fantastic presents?

    Also, about school: just remember that it's a force you need to overcome. It makes you stronger inside. Perhaps school teaches us things we don't need to know, or perhaps it makes our mental stability recede away, but it's the first playground we'll ever see - full of bullies, teachers, egotistical ragamuffins and tosh like that. Think of it as preparing us for a battle. (I'm probably not very good at offering reassurance.)

    Oh, and I have a new blog -, where I'll post hugehugehuge text posts that I'm always longing to type. Uncooked Bagels... got a little out of hand.

    Good luck with everything!


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