College in my case. The second and last year of the mind numbing torture. A first week back to an interesting kind of hell, in which no one seems to give a shit about you or anything that is happening around them. 2015 to 2016 is predicted, by yours truly, to be a little different than all the others, I feel a dark brown cloud gathering. I sense the universe taking a real big shit. A real shit storm. I could carry on with the poop puns but I think you’ve read enough of my genius for one article.
The second year of A Levels started off fairly slowly, not many lessons, lots of lonely free time. Since most of my so called fellows miserably failed AS, I am faced with the transition from 0 friends to -15, the stares of death every time I wonder down a corridor. I like to tell myself I’m just too attractive for them to handle, while making my way over to the vending machine to grab as much comfort food as I can afford.
My favourites include cheese and onion walkers and double deckers. And while shoving them down my throat I think back to the time when I enjoyed school. That time when I first joined the British education system all the way back in year How exciting the time was, when I first experienced teaching that a) I didn’t understand a word of and b) didn’t make me feel like a complete waste of space when I answered a question incorrectly. Back in Poland little kids would get what I like to call the failure stare when you fucked up a test, I was a frequent recipient of this and am still scarred to this day.
As a little bit of a concluding statement, I feel as though the older I get the less sense education makes. If I survive this year I am looking forward to the transition to my next personal hell, university (though probably a little more useful).