"School is Hard"
Brian Paul Dunlop
The day sent shivers down my spine. Waking up is so pointless; another day, another meaningless mental trip.
And the kids at the school - who needs them? I got my drugs and I hang out with older kids. That's way cooler than what they do.
So why should I get up? What will today bring that tomorrow hasn't? What does anything really even mean?
Just everything - why is everything so fucked? Or at least needs to get fucked.
I like punk music and wrestling on TV; this chaos seems more reasonable - more logical for a reasoning against the logic of the tilted world, always spinning on an axis; never even, yet never the same.
The day turned to night as the morning glories closed and the spirits of the realm of the dead, encased the sunken shadowy Autumn sky.
Flows of silk, amber and rain eclipsed a full moon, glowing in an intoxicating flame.
Arnold sat upright in bed, staring at a scary night full of dangerous curiousity and peril. He turned his head to the left, away from the half-way opened window that blew win and casted figures upon the shadowy tint of his midnight room.
"Just close your eyes and it will be okay. Just close your eyes and it will be, okay" said Arnold to console himself as he felt the cool errie breeze wrap its way around his neck and lower back.
Arnold closed his eyes tightly shut as he felt, what felt like a warm breath, breathing gently into his ear.
"This can't be real. This isn't real. This is not real" said Arnold to himself as he drew back in bed.
Then from the far corner of the room, a low voice whispered, "Come play with me. I hated school. Let's go. I like to play in the attic, but only with you, alright? I think I like you..."
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