As I type this, I'm at school, with my friend Hakon giving me a threatening stare across the table. Oh good, he's stopped.
I'm supposed to be doing a french paper right now, but the resource isn't working so I haven't got anything to do and my folder's at home and it's all going a bit tits up really. However I'm sure my teachers can't argue with me doing a bit of writing out of choice.
It's funny, when you separate yourself from normal school life you get to listen to what's actually going on around you a lot more.
I'm surrounded by plasterboard walls covered in white or purple paint, stained with fingermarks of the greasy hands of students who've eaten too many chips for lunch. Below me, a grey, already trampled on carpet that has about as much appeal as an old J-Cloth. Throughout the building i hear slamming of doors and a distressed child shouting about how Jack's got his bag and he's dangling it out of the window.
I'm looking out the window now. The rain pours while some younger kids are at lunch, posing for pictures on their Blackberrys they'll regret taking as they get older.
I turn my head back, I see members of my year group drifting, without sense of urgency or purpose. As the year draws to a close we spend our time thinking more of what we'll remember than what we'll do next. Mostly we'll remember the quite frankly odious task of waking up at 6.30 and riding a bus with smelly people and sitting exams you don't want to sit. But then, out of nowhere, we'll remember something funny like those god awful motivational slogans that were laminated and stapled all over the walls. Or that time when that year seven ran straight into a door and you couldn't help but laugh whilst trying to scrape him up from the floor. Or that time when you failed an exam and you cried so hard you felt sick and your favourite teacher just sat with you while it happened.
So in a few minutes I'll be on my way home. I'll walk past the slightly sour receptionist and try my hardest to hide my turquoise nail varnish from her, all in the belief that I'll be doing it for many years to come.
I hate to think how I'll feel when I realise that I won't be.
