dear high school,

I don't quite particularly like you. In fact, we could say that it's on the boarder line of hate. You cause me so much strife. An let me say, I don't enjoy it.

Yeah, sure I get it. Like has it's challenges. But- no. You make things so much more harder.

Everyday I wake up. And drag myself to your eternal pit of woe and distruction. I face the green fumes that linger in by the doors, and almost pass out. BUT- I've trained my lungs to not give in. Next I walk up to the student area, and I think I've died, and gone to hell.

As I stand in all your glorious midst of love, acceptance, and honesty, I can't help but be so excited for my first period class. I trudge slowly there, passing people making out, nerds playing with their K-nex and emos trying to cut themselves or something.

As I reach first, my teacher is no where in sight. I sit for a good 45 minutes until my way cool and awesome teach decides to come an join in the festivity. And, he does.

As the day wares on, I find myself slowly dying. The drama, the smells, the work. It's all so over whelming. And by the time 2:15 rolls around, my brain is fried a crisp.

You would think that your effects would leave once I leave your premicise. But once again, no. Your drama enters. Oh my favorite!!!!! (sarcastic)

Just peachy.

So high school, cut me some slack please. Send me some cool friends and make this year go by fast. Please!

Love, your biggest fan: Mardi Thomas. Junior at Pleasant Grove High School.

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