As I am feeling pensive over the last few days, I finally worked up the mood to write something. Then the problem came up again and again about what should I write about or should I even write anything. In the end, I wound up with this: a kind of recollection of the selves I had in the various stages of education level.

Don’t worry; this is just a brief run-through of things. Be warned though, I wasn’t exactly the best person to talk to in my younger years.


The sun would look like a cracked egg against the early morning sky.

Children would play with everything that could possibly be played. What we had then was some simple kind of atmosphere, the kind that would be mistaken for a Sunday morning brunch. It was nice without the complications of hurt feelings or what-have-you. Back then, you could think of someone without the veil of discrimination or plain dislike.

Of course, children have their own set of concerns. What I remembered then was the contest of who was special and who was not. Children are cruel behind their benevolent faces. It’s more painful to know that what they say are not meant to hurt you but they are just calling it as they see it. It hurts to know the simplest truth about things and it turn, it proves to be more cruel. That’s the problem then and as I think back, I only liked elementary school because of the games.

I hated everything else that moved.

High School

It was a drastic change in scenery. The clear skies were gone and what I had in front of me was a moody rainy day. The first day of classes welcomed me with the softest shower of rain that I would ever encounter. It was also the most annoying thing ever.

The gray skies continued for the next four years. If it wasn’t smouldering hot, it was just hot. The dry heat can envelop you into a strange lull by the end of the morning. It took me a lot to get used to this place which was relatively far away from home. I figured the distance would do me good but in the first year in there, I kept on getting sorry for myself. I was the drama queen that I always hated.

I was awkward but I knew well that I wasn’t the only one thinking that way. Everyone was awkward in high school. We had to shed off the kiddy feel and try to grow up as much as possible. The childish mannerisms we were used to had no place in there. Similarly, whatever we were in elementary school was also barred and not allowed inside the school premises.

During the first years, the thought that we were above everyone else in our level was drilled into us. We were the best in the country and no one could tell us otherwise. The effect of that was a sad and ugly thing to watch. Every time someone would fail at something, be sure that it will be passed along the proverbial grapevine. Failure was no easy thing and we all had to learn it the hard way.

Maybe you won’t understand me when I say this but the high school I went to was something like the Battle School in Ender’s Game. Everyone was the same and you had to take the extra effort to stand out. Sadly, standing out didn’t have to be from doing well. It could be done in any way and combination possible.

There’s a lot more to say about that place. It lasted an eternity and it lasted too soon. It was the best and it was the worst. It was heaven and hell in the neat packages of newly opened file cases and the dreary everyday lunch menu.

I hated it for the most part, really.

It taught me that the best things in life are the ones that you count as over.


Have you ever thought that you could never live in pace with everything around you? That whatever speed you managed to find yourself comfortable in, you find that everything else would move slower or faster just to not keep in pace with you? This place is the ultimate shithole of time and space.

If you took too long to realize anything, you would gravely suffer the consequences. If you took to fast and assumed the outcome of a situation, you would lose just about everything that you worked for. Right then, so what would you do? You would think to keep in pace with everything, to be synchronized, as it were. Yeah, I tried that too but what it got me was a little between what you get when you splattered acrylic and duck egg together in a canvass on a tropical summer day.

I got shit, that’s what.

It’s hard to cope with everything all at once. Everyone was full of hopes and dreams before this place would assume its Godzilla form and trample everything you had. In the end, you would become a shell of what you once were; completely passive and absolutely resigned.

In elementary, you had dreams. In high school, you had your aspirations. In college, you have all of these stripped from you and you would be given standard issue paperwork to fill out. It would be neat and legal. Ultimately, it would be binding and it’s called your Degree Program.

In the end, I lost everything I was. I became this convoluted piece of corporate asskisser and I hate it. But I’m not telling you to not take the usual path. It’s quite the contrary really. I’m telling you to go through the hell of it. If you get out and you ended up the same as you had started, it’s up to you to evaluate yourself.

Is it better to become stagnant?

Is it worse to be moulded this way?

Think about it. Think about really hard. When you know the answer, be kind enough to tell me. I’m dying to listen to you.

And I would really like fries with that.


About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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