September 20, 2011

TEenage Angst

I lean in my chair, feeling uncomfortable in first period. I hate talking about participation grades in class when you know your getting a 60% on it. You raise your hand maybe every 3 times a weeks and they call on you all of the time, just to know your paying attention. For the first time ever, I listened. And, I learned something out of it and connected it to something in my every day life. Motifs,  a reoccurring idea or image scene more than one in a book and also symbolizes something ( sometimes ).
My first real life motif; tell me if it could work. 

I change into my too tight leotard for dance, I see the boy of my dreams. Honestly, tears are pouring out of my eyes as I admire the outline of his face. I had to remember it somehow. After I pick my butt, and walk to dance. I sit through the weirdest 35 minutes of dance ever. I can't tell wether I like her music as cool euro  pop or if I think it sounds like gunshots from down the street. That doesn't matter though.

At lunch, I knew that face from somewhere and ah-ha thank god for my creepy staring eyes. I saw him again, told my dear friend Rennie how head over heels in love I was. As I pour my heart out to her about how I'm in love. Even though, I do not know his name or who he is. She laughs and tells me he's in her art. I'm crushed.

After school, I felt like going to mug slingers. It's basically pottery with a stupid club name for it to sound more appealing to people, but really it makes it sound stupid. I did my thing making two very homemade looking pots. As I leave, THERE! AGAIN! He stands there. I'm so confused, but I know. Oh, I know. It's meant to be.
God, high school is great. 
© by Vogue / Photography Phil Poynter / Models Andre Feulner, Caspar Smyth, Emil Rapp, Jesse Burgess, Pierre-Harald Leducq, Tom Lander / ViaSteelmachines


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