Venting

This whole stereotype that the fat girl who is never seen eating is dieting.

Pisses.

Me.

Off.

It doesn’t matter if it’s true in a given scenario. Why is that conclusion the first to be jumped to anyway? Why is any conclusion jumped to? Why can’t we just shut up and accept the explanation given to us-and if we don’t accept it, keep our goddamned stupid opinions to ourselves? 

More on stereotypes, we do tend to stereotype a lot, don’t we? I learned this the relatively hard way, when one of my closest friends told me she thought I was an arrogant nerd the first time she saw me, and another now-close friend admitted she thought I was a scary bitch. I laughed (duh-me, scary or bitchy, really?) but when you think about it…I wonder how many of the stereotypes I’ve created in my head, intentionally or not, have been as wrong as theirs were.

Revelling in her scary-bitchiness,

~Sam. 

What we did before our exams.

So Sam and I used to text most ALL the time, irrespective of whether we had the same exam day after or not.
We ended up writing poems/songs a couple of times.
For your amusement, may I present...

January 22nd, 2012, 10:17 p.m.
Me:
It's the night before my commerce exam,
and I sit there staring,
 at a page that I've been staring at for the past hour or so.
The clock keeps ticking, and I keep dreaming,
my concentration is dropping low.


And I am certain that there's something behind the curtain,
no there isn't, I'm just trying to pass my tiiiiime.
Please please please, I don't want to study anymore,
my head belongs on my pillow,
Please make it go away.


I'm writing this song the day before my test,
My oh my I'm such a shameless wreck,
because even with an exam tomorrow I don't feel guilty...


but please please please make it go away!
The torture seems to be here to stay,
but please make it go away. 

January 24th, 2012, 11:20 p.m.
Sam: 
My eyes are glazed over, the words don't make any sense.
To my life, my grades tomorrow don't make any difference.
My concentration's dropping lower, my body's less tense,
so why oh why am i not asleep yet like my oblivious parents?


Me:
I probably should be worried, that I'm not getting tensed.
I'm in a hopeless situation, an unshocking revelation.
It happens all the time.
And even though I'm wasting my time in this songs making,
I know I'll do just fine, I think.


Sam:
Tired appear to be, my drooping eyes call out to sleep.
But I shut the book and lo, I'm suddenly lively as a brook!
To this feeling of despair, nothing else can compare,
nothing except, perhaps finding splits in my hair.


Me:
I'm just rambling now,even my words have gone.
So why oh why cant the textbook be gone too?


Oh this torture I cannot bear.
In a moments time, my hair I will tear.


See I get this feeling in the back of my brain,
telling me to study, but the front part is saying,
that I should text my buddy.


Sam:
And so I let my eyes glaze over, and let my speed become even slower.
I let the clock tick by as the time passes me by.
To the world  flick my finger and to my friend the singer,
I text, 
A Song.






From Sam: And this is why I don't write poetry.