I have been very angry, these past couple of days. And with good reason, I feel, too. I apologise about the posts below, but I've decided that I'm going to leave them there. And even though there are a few people who read my blog, and I'd rather they didn't know about certain things, I'm leaving them there, so that I have the memory. I just want to say, though, please don't discuss any of this with me. If I want to talk to you about it, I will. Don't interfere where you are not wanted. I'm just having a bad patch at the moment, and all will be fine on Monday. Don't make me regret being honest.
On a lighter note: my first proper, real, complete and disgustingly scary GCSE is in 10 days. Hahaha. Oh what a light note that was. It's Latin. What possessed me to take up that subject? No, I love it really. In fact, when I was reminded by Emma that we are no longer going to have Latin lessons together, I burst into inconsolable tears. There, see? I am evidently a loon. I cry over loss of Latin. I should be rejoicing over the fact that I will never have to write about how Virgil emphasises things (use of anaphora, alliteration, enjambement, hendiadys, elisions, ekphrasis, polyptoton, and a whole pile of other awful words I don't know the meanings of). But no. I will miss not knowing what 'numine' means (actually, what IS that?). I will miss asking Emma what the hell an ablative absolute is. And most of all, I'll miss our games of Add-It. Jaysus.
I really can't believe that I am soon to be a Sir William Perkins's School Sixth Former. Scary shit, non? I cannot believe that I have been at this school, with these same people for the past five years. FIVE YEARS MAN. That's a long fucker of a time. WHEN I AM NOT A Q, I SHALL MISS YOU ALL TO FUCKING BITS.
Yeh, I know, I know. Too much emotion. See you tomorrow.
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