I should have been scared. The heavy thumps along the wooden floorboards. The hissed sounds filling the air in a cacophony of screeching until I'm forced to snuffle the noise with my hands. The lights glaring down at me as if I'm the one in the wrong here. This beast is breathing down my neck and its name is high school.
Is it a beast or a savior? The titanic or a lifeboat? What I do know is that high school is a monster that devours all and it's up to you on whether it hurts or helps you. Or that's what the teachers say.
Maybe it's not high school that's the monster, but the teachers who are there. Our lives going up in flames over bad grades and a social life crushed under an avalanche of homework each night. With slow learning reprimanded instead of helped.
Are they beasts or saviors? The titanic or a lifeboat? What I do know is that teachers are monsters who devour all and it's up to luck on whether you pass or fail. Or that's what the students say.
Maybe it's not the teachers that are the monsters, but the students who occupy the halls. Their laughs like sneers and gazes mocking as you walk to your classes, head hung low so you're not picked out of the crowd. With high pitched complaints and exasperated sighs.
Are they beasts or saviors? The titanic or a lifeboat? What I do know is that the students aren't as scary if you keep your head up and a smile on your face. Or that's what I think.
Maybe there are no monsters, but just the idea of them. Or maybe we're all the monsters, the kind that prevail in fairy tales and keep going.