Whack! Still
I came home from college, train, tired but happy with my new dress as a student manager for the notes, studies.
come on stage a bunch of kids of averages, almost. Two
have the look of someone who has already won a mature, is a restless and noisy, is a quiet and old-fashioned. There was also a girl perbenino.
diagram canon. The child restless torment those old-fashioned in every way and the three peers, viewers, slightly embarrassed but also instill a good time, not a lot of effort to stop bullying of the show, aware that some 'wrong there ... instill instill remembered something that mom or dad must have said about it, something like "bullying is bad."
I stop to study, even for the noise.
I and the old-fashioned child exchange a casual look. No, I was watching actually.
had the look of someone who was going to do something, even for a moment, the next challenge, I swear I do something, I swear, this is not the next, now I react, I swear. Face red
who the fuck, whatever but do not cry.
Open-hand with the mind I tell him.
close it to punch starting with the pinky-
The baby fat and various jokes nags at him screaming his superiority the alpha male. The annular
hours, then the average, hold strong-insist.
Look down, sulking, because to me, because I can not boast of Safety and indifference of my executioners?
Finally the index, the thumb at last, I hold strong-will to take revenge.
Look into my eyes and hit hard.
Fear. Anxiety. They are the middle schools. I'm in the middle of the flock of capocette crowding the gates of output per hour of horrible state building. I am on the day of receipt of the parents as a prisoner to the Green Mile. I'm afraid I'm of the school, I'm afraid of the family, I'm afraid of the teachers, I'm afraid of fellow, I fear me, I'm afraid of life.
My father sat, mortified and disappointed to hear the ramblings of an old whore and depressed the stench of cigarette off evil. Premature wrinkles, each groove is the cry of an unruly boy, suburban school with what follows from it: cigarettes, sex, bullying, drugs, violence, boxcutters carried with ease between the brand sweatshirts and sneakers. The Academy of delinquency, drug addiction, prostitution. Many brains trained to die early in stupid ways.
His son is intelligent but does not apply.
The hoax of the century! - Scream from the entrance of the classroom, seeing my own child sitting in a corner.
First are very few really smart ones. I was one of those but it's not that I applied, I was terrified. And none of my teachers thought of me as really smart. not wrong because my facial expression media was often that of a homo erectus front of a differential equation.
The child looks at me old-fashioned, and you look around you, you're right, nobody move a finger. The indifference and loneliness will follow him for life, that's how we live all the rest.
I turn, instill the coach are my parents avoid my gaze in embarrassment.
are the result of your actions. This world is the result of your actions, and are living the future now, you like? Do not worry, everything will be all the better if you lived a life free of regret, if you were honest with yourself, between you, the world will shape the world in your image.
Each fold of our souls, is modeled on your fears.
We're just thirsty survivors dug with bare hands, the bare rock.
After the round is repeated.
