One more day. Sometimes it helps not to look at everything so very deeply and to just realize that I hate school because...I do. But of course that can never be enough. So then, why do I hate school? School and I don't really get off on a good start each morning and the reason for that is that it is, in fact, the morning, in which I dredfully accept school's essential "oppurtunities" in walk through the cold steel doors of my seven hour daily incarceration. The morning, in itself, really has nothing disagreeable about. I harbor no animosity toward the morning as a time of day. The hues of purple, orange and red as beams of sun peer above the horizon, the call of birds, the fresh air, and the scent of dew, are all cleary worth of appreciation. No, it is not the hate of the morning that I feel, but rather the way I feel in the Morning that I hate. The morning is the beginning of the day, and I have to wake up in the beginning of the morning, at a time when morning classification barely becomes eligible. Upon opening my eyes at this abrupt hour my vocabularly is limited to one word (besides the standard expletives one mutters at a period of great dissaproval such as "Fuck, man", "shit", "dammit" or a very happy mixture of the three) and that word which has doubtlessly been uttered within the caverns of almost every "inmates" brain is...Why?...
I return from a 2 hour break and this thought is no longer as profound as it was when I began. The thoughts in my mind expire quite rapidly, maybe some sort of solution is needed (a refrigeration system possibley)...I'm so fucking funny.