Lacking in Everything

This is going to be a rather frank post - no beating around the bush with literary, emotional shit. This is an opinion and pretty spectacular one at that.

So it's been a good four years since I left secondary school and I'm now at the end of my 2nd year in university - and I come across a blog, bright pink, with the initials of its author brandished at the top left-hand corner. My jaw dropped: I'd recognise those initials even in my next life. I realised it was that of a teacher from school and of course, memories of a slightly more than less satisfactory experience in school came flooding back. Don't get me wrong - yes I paid a fucking unbelievable amount of money to go to that school, but it wasn't worth a single penny (or sen, if we're being currency term-conscious). This particular individual is definitely a contributing factor to my experience

The ideas he writes about in his blog - absolutely, spectacularly laughable. It's a joke, a motherfucking shitty joke with no respect for what education should really be about. A talent competition? Using the school as a host for this publicised event?

Don't get me wrong...I do believe talent competitions are a great way of showcasing talent which my be left buried under academia but this seems more like a publicity stunt much like the Weirs and their 161m quid. But what's at risk with this publicity? For one, the students - while it's important for schools to recognise other talents in students, it is still a place of ACADEMIC LEARNING. I think with these talent competitions, the school's focus is being sidetracked and all they're going to be left with are students who are themselves going to have a very distorted focus on life. Secondly, the school's reputation - it was bad enough that in 2007 the school was already recognised as one of the most commercialised schools - what are the public going to think about it by the time 2012 rolls around?

Ok am done with my slightly childish and exaggerated rant. I need sleep. Hence, why I'm on a sleep-deprived rampage

On the Verge

Receiving an overwhelming number of comments was enough to make me feel as if I was torn down the middle and stomped on. I speak of my encounter  with hurtful words with a mask on - I smile but it's all a pretend play which I have become accustom to over the years.

Words can reduce one to tears or send them of on an insanity rampage, but I swallow mine and smile - smile to show the world the words mean nothing to me although they mean the world to me (in a pessimistic sense). Essentially I'm lying not only to the world but also to myself. As time goes on, I will eventually believe that every smile reflects happiness despite knowing that it began as nothing more than a cover up of my hurt.

So right, I will smile at you always, lie to you always just because that's what everyone wants to see. No one wants a grouch...everyone wants a liar.

Age

We dissipate into age
disappearing essence and disappearing identity;
The prime is gone andwe can only
regret not relishing in it ealier.

The pictures say it all
You grow old and disintegrate;
No one told you about this in school;
If ony you could turn back te clock.

Hands tremble, legs quiver
under the weight of your frailness;
Your life is at the end;
The end point is only coming closer.

The Words You didn't say but I Heard.

Midnight.

Textbooks scattered around me - its pages opened to chapters on "The Brain and Emotions", dictating how the brain accounts for our emotions

But I was distracted - distracted by the words you were sending across to me through Instant Messaging. I read it and sat and thought about them before carefully articulating my response to you. So I decided that I would stop sugar-coating my words and give you my frank opinion.

You didn't like it. You didn't like the fact that I knew what you were trying to say without you putting it down in words. You didn't like the fact that I successfully scrutinised you. You didn't like that fact that I knew you this well. You tell me the problems and I advised you but you deflected my words off. You tried to change the subject but I keep you rooted to the topic. You hated it. You were angry. Eventually, you went offline and left me sitting there with more criticism left unsaid, sitting on the edge of my fingers.

I went back to work, flipping through the pages of "The Brain and Emotions" but my head was whirring with the words I never got to tell you. You built up a barrier and ran away the moment the barrier looked like it was going to fall. The mind built the wall but your emotions made you run.

They don't explain this in the textbooks.