Other Forms of Torture

I would genuinely like to know who looked at Latin and thought, “Yes. This seems necessary for adolescents.” Today we spent nearly an hour declining words that nobody has spoken naturally for centuries while Prof. C. stared at us with the expression of a disappointed emperor. School has only existed for four days and already everyone looks slightly damaged. There’s a particular kind of exhaustion unique to classrooms. Not physical exhaustion. Mental overcrowding. Too many voices, fluorescent lights, chairs scraping floors, people laughing too loudly because they’re nervous. By third period I honestly felt like my brain had been boiled gently.

H. still looked composed somehow. Impossible girl. One of the boys behind us kept throwing paper during class and pretending sophistication afterward, which is very male behavior honestly. Boys destroy things then immediately want to discuss philosophy.

At lunch I realized something depressing:
the “popular” people always seem exhausted by maintaining themselves.

You can actually see it happening.
The constant monitoring.
Who looked at whom.
Who ignored whom.
Who wore what.

It looks incredibly tiring.
And yet everybody still wants access to that invisible social throne.
Personally I’d rather survive Latin.

MIRRORS.
Remember me,
Eclipse