I looked up from my book in Language Arts to see the teacher at the front of the class. "Today, we will write a five paragraph essay answering the question 'What is the labrynth and how do you get out of it'" Great. I grabbed a piece of lined paper from my binder and started writing.
The labrynth is suffering. Suffering is a bunch of dead ends and correct ways out. Thus why it is called "the labrynth of suffering."
How to get out of the labrynth? That is a whole other question entirely. There are multiple ways to get out of the metaphorical labrynth. You could commit suicide, or you can die a simple death. You can isolate yourself. Or you could go "straight and fast" as Alska said in the book Looking for Alaska by John Green.
I wasn't about to write a five paragraph essay answering two questions. I scribbled my name on the paper and handed it in. Just then, the bell rang. I gathered my stuff and waited for the rest of the class to leave. I got up and left slowly. I was used to getting bullied, so when I got shoved against the locker, I wasn't surprised. I was, in fact, surprised by my reaction. I punched the person in the face. Then dropped everything and started beating the shit out of her. Once I was done, I gathered up all my stuff, and I walked home.
