The Eternal Monotony

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It’s once again the time where I must open my eyes and look forward to a day in which I must drag my behind to that table where I must seat my behind for another eight hours once again. It had been years going to the same place same time and working g till our hands hurt and our minds were jelly. The typical nonchalant teacher would come I to the class and start shouting for us to shut up and then she wouldn’t follow the same advice for the next forty-five minutes. Meanwhile, when she does a horrible job in explaining why electrons move around the nucleus she would attempt a joke to which we all will smile sheepishly because it’s the same one our three-year-olds make, while she would feel good when all those buttering her would roar with laughter.

Then she would depart with her head high and feet dragging across swiftly and an expression of satiation which betrays her efforts. Her follies are not the least tasteful while only her misattempts are. The irony is the fact that it keeps on going on and on. When we do catch a breath of finality after the soul-sucking experience, we find ourselves facing one of the most ironclad woman of her time. If she had her way we would be wearing chains instead of collars and cuffs for wristbands. Her time passes and we find ourselves at the time of the day we all wait for. Without any delay, all of us stand and depart unanimously. There we chat and make small talk of how the pretend jokes which we were forced to grin at while we would be rather throwing a javelin.

These talks are the only things fruitful except for the gossip. Even when we do not know the damn person we would actually know more about them than the person himself. We would criticize the way he talked, laughed, dressed and every damn thing the guy did. But still, the lion’s share is the new relationships that formed and were broken only on the hope that the person who broke up was your crush and now you may get a little attention. And then the time is up of our pleasure and once again we face torture for much more time. Then we find out that we have a group activity which we must do to score marks, which are going to the person who has buttered the teacher nice and thick. The only thing that awaits me is the dread of doing a group project by me, for that is a sure future. Our bones hurt, cheeks hurt. By the time I feel that we can go home but in the last ten minutes we are told that we must submit practicals which we were supposed to write a month back and we couldn’t do them for she had more important stuff to do. Another hard job to do at home. It’s as if these people do not want the children to smile at genuine things at all.

Well, I sure have another great day to look forward to is what I think as I get out of bed because you know that the day is better than thought as you will sit next to your dear friend who will judge everyone along with you and also share a part of the misdirected humor. For every day is a new day, and the hope of the same lights up my eyes as I drag my torso with my hand into the chair with wheels and my dead legs along with me into it.

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