It is possible to hate the world and your own life when Aristotle wants your head.
Sensei: Laura San, dare ni chokoreto wo agemasuka? (Laura San, who do you give chocolates to?)
Laura: Uh… tomodachi ni? (Uh… to my friends?)
Sensei: Sensei ni! (To the teacher!) … whoa, whoa, whoa! wait a minute, to him!?
A few seconds later —after I blushed and leafed through the textbook to see if I had skipped something I had to read, and choked in exclamations of “dokode!?” and “nani!?”—, he gave us an explanation on Valentines Day in Japan, when girls give chocolates to boys and even to their (male) teacher. This explanation didn’t stop me from wondering why he had chosen me to say such a thing.
The moon in the sky
Was just a dry drop
On the window
There are no pretty words for this one. There are no rhetorics, no orderly sentences in perfect paragraphs. Just me, my bloody heart, my blackened lungs and my wrinkled brain, plus a few thin fingers.
I can’t write what I feel… it’s quite complex.
…
After a long while of typing and deleting, a short conversation with my friend Monica has given me the answer on what my problem is. She didn’t even have to say anything. I said it myself.
I am feeling soooo out of place! SOMEBODY GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!