Oli in English Class

Oh, how boring can a class get?

I hate being bored.

I watch as the clock ticks by,

The seconds getting slower,

And slower,

And slower.

My eyes flutter open and shut,

The blanket of tiredness wrapping around me.

I hate being tired.

The teacher told us we’d be working on an essay today.

Oh, how joyous I thought it would be.

Until my mind went blank,

The wall of ideas shutting down.

I hate having writer's block,

The infinite blank page staring back at me,

Waiting for the right words to appear.

I hate not knowing what to write.

I hate staring at this blank page.

I hate a lot of things,

And right know I hate this,

The class,

The boredom,

The endless suffering of not being able to think straight.

I hate the sound of the kids around me,

Laughing,

Talking,

Working.

I hate just sitting here,

Though I also hate standing.

I hate the electric hum coming from my computer charger,

And the noise of the fan.

I hate the smell of sweaty teenagers,

The sight of people walking by.

But most of all,

I hate that the blank page stares back at me,

A silent judge of my failure.