9:34AM
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Tuesday.
Status: Miserable.
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People tend to tell me that I am too careless for my age.
This is funny because teenagers are known to be moody, arrogant twats, and, the second I really do act my age, I suddenly gain another label; childish.
"Alex, this is the third late assignment this week. I can't keep chasing you for your work!"
Words have suddenly lost all meaning and my brain has seemingly forgotten how to form a sentence.
I think I left my pen on my desk.
"This is becoming a serious problem and I'm sure your mother is exhausted over my voice screeching through the phone by this point."
It was one of those smooth ballpoint ones, too.
I couldn't care less about school and its chalkboards, classrooms and children who tip their chairs back just enough to where they fall and whine that they hit their head on the metal garbage can. Really, I couldn't.
"You're in high school now, it's your responsibility to manage your time wisely and make space for these things. In the real world,"
I never understood that saying, "In the real world". Does it imply that we all live in a temporary simulation until we suddenly graduate?
"You will get into some pretty deep trouble if you keep this up with your future boss, I feel incredibly sorry for them."
I think the dismissal bell goes at 9:40.
YOU ARE READING
7 Days At A Time.
FanfictionI couldn't care less about things I don't care about. I helped me realize that. -Alexzander Wickham. 12/12/12
