depressing frustrating week

Depressing, frustrating weeks

Much to their dismay, the exams are to come. The inevitable test to confirm their existence in the school next year. The teacher gave a bright reassuring smile with piles of notes and worksheets that were ever so encouraging. From the very time of intense studying and late night coffees, their time is to come the next few days.

Monday, a time to arrive in the fresh mood or with the Monday blues to school. Facing stern teachers who fire students down for not doing their homework, no matter how “valid” the excuses are. A little homework placed on the every desks while revision will be freshly gone through tonight.

Tuesday, the time to come with a little fresher look than normal. Books carried to school are ready to be tackled and attacked. However, a little later, the pile of homework gone a little higher and revision is on tonight.

Wednesday, a happy moment to know that the school ends early but boring classes rips the enthusiasm. Another late night of revision.

Thursday, a thin smile on the face and the ever thinning optimism, tackled the day with fiery tempers and multiple coffees. Glaring at teachers who ask questions where nobody can answer. The predictable headache coming up now and then. The midnight oil burns as the slogging through notes begins.

Friday, armed with little books and black eyes with the final strength of the spirit to complete the school week and back to the comfy beds where sleep is called the luxury of exam periods.

AND NOW, THE TESTS BEGIN!

important oneself

He looked down at his shoes from the top of the building,

And then, he looked down at the tiny people below him.

They were minding their own business,

Nobody cared about him anyway.

He thought of the people in school;

He saw them leering at his popularity.

He turned to his parents;

None of them understand anyway.

He looked at the great height below,

Then he heard someone cry.

Beside him, it was a young girl;

Or it seems to be with the dress she is wearing.

The features were deformed,

So it was kind of hard to tell.

The bruises on her arms;

Who caused that?

The girl looked down;

Is she going to jump too?
It seemed to be.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she turned away;

Her tears dries, her face straight,

She walked away from the edge.

He heard her mutter,” I am not going to let them get rid of me easily,”

And then, she was gone.

The boy looked down;

His depression no longer there;

He turned away and walked to the lift,

“There are people worse than me,” he said

“I am not going to get rid of myself easily. If she can do it, so can I.”