mynameiscoleman
It's cozy by this fire. I'm stripped of my clothing, as I have just gone outside and my garments became all wet with snow. I feel fragile now. I feel as though the world owns me.
I'm okay with this notion.
I don't believe in fate, but I don't want to believe in controlling my own destiny.
I just want my wool sweater to dry, is that so much to ask?
My headphones are a little large on my head, but what I am to expect from a pair of 10 year old hand-me-downs? It's cold, but I'm sweating. I'm anxious. This molotov cocktail seems to only get heavier. I'm headed downtown, and I know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm joining in that student revolt for... that cause...what was that cause, again?
I'm yellow. I always have been, and I always will be. I'm not quite sure why the color yellow became associated with cowardliness, but I am sure it was something racist. I don't want to fight this war. I just want to shove flowers in the barrels of my gun. Is that really so cowardly? Please say no.
It smelled like France. Not like a baguette, but of the entire essence of the place. She reminded me of a better place, and boy, was I glad to wake up next to her in the morning. She tells me to move with her, but I can't. Schooling isn't important to her, and I only wish she could understand how badly I want to be a chemist.
I wake up.
It’s my first day of school, and I wonder what it will be like. Are my teachers going to be complete assholes? Damn, I can’t deal with this shit anymore. I’ve spent too long wasting my life in the rooms of idiotic losers. Fuck. It’s my mother calling me now.
Well here goes first grade.
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