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There had to be more to this than what I saw before me. A befuddling math book, detailing all sorts of functions, graphs and shapes that remained unknown to me, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I tried to focus, when I felt I really had the next step of learning in my grasp, that final step towards enlightment and realization, I happened to peer outside.
The snow was falling, gently, but in a vast amount, filling the skies and punctuating the ground with my wishes - my desire to go skiing. With every draw of my pencil I imagined a slash in fluffy pow; with every turn of a page I imagined a new, untouched slope before me; with every new equation I saw a slope only I could challenge to its fullest.
I was a skier at heart.
Yet, I was tuch here in school. My parents paid no heed, they didn't understand. My friends scoffed at my non-year round hobby, laughing on their way to floorball practice. The girls seemed uninterested in me, although I felt stylish in my tall tees and large hoodies, it was like they were looking through me. My teacher gave me the evil eye whenever he could, knowing that I wouldn't pass with merits that he would be able to explain to my folks or the school board.
My thoughts were just, inexplicably, elsewhere.
In the snowy mounds, the deep forest tracks, in the air launched by a booter, in the cry of the steel benetah my edges - I was dreaming of another place. Another dimension where I had no need to stay here, cramming this stuff, useless to me, inside my head.
I stood up, as the teacher shouted at me, and the others threw their books at me, missing me only due to my honed reflexes, and spit at me as I was to become an outcast.
I opened the door, and foolowed my dream.
School needs to end.
I say fuck school.
