Oli in English Class
Oh, how boring can a class get?
I hate being bored.
I watch as the clock ticks by,
The seconds getting slower,
And slower,
And slower.
My eyes flutter open and shut,
The blanket of tiredness wrapping around me.
I hate being tired.
The teacher told us we’d be working on an essay today.
Oh, how joyous I thought it would be.
Until my mind went blank,
The wall of ideas shutting down.
I hate having writer's block,
The infinite blank page staring back at me,
Waiting for the right words to appear.
I hate not knowing what to write.
I hate staring at this blank page.
I hate a lot of things,
And right know I hate this,
The class,
The boredom,
The endless suffering of not being able to think straight.
I hate the sound of the kids around me,
Laughing,
Talking,
Working.
I hate just sitting here,
Though I also hate standing.
I hate the electric hum coming from my computer charger,
And the noise of the fan.
I hate the smell of sweaty teenagers,
The sight of people walking by.
But most of all,
I hate that the blank page stares back at me,
A silent judge of my failure.