I passed by a certain banner hanging outside a certain secondary school which proudly proclaimed the glories of its recent academic achievements, and I thought to myself, how nice it is that everyone is happy and doing well and on track to a bright and successful future that even we pragmatists like to believe lies well within our clutches. And then. And then, I tell you. And then. I recognised for a split second who it was who appeared to be gazing contentedly back at me, and remembered that it was he who borrowed my pen to fill in a particular form for a particular thing and is now in some happier place while I'm still drowning my sorrows, lamely, with herbal digestifs and terra blue potato chips. And this compels me to express my angst in some highly poetic and artistic way that I will later, with the curse of retrospect, regret.
On a totally unrelated note, I can't believe what had all just transpired and how I can react to everything so calmly, as if while expecting the worst in everything I had unwittingly caused these nightmares to materialise.
Finally, this 3rd paragraph is more of a rant about how I can't change the password to my matrix account because NOTHING in this vehicle of education has been for the past 10 years, and will be for the next century, compatible with my computer.
Now that I've got the whole tortured young soul thing revved up, I shall now channel a starving artist while designing my class tee.
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