We as people know our selves the best. We know what we love to eat, what we drink, were we study, were we sleep, everything. Now for a moment think. No not about what we would like to have for dinner or who we would love to bone In the next hour, I mean think about what it would be like if we knew nothing. We think of school as if it were a hell hole sent from satin himself. We spend an average 7 hours in a building with the fat kid who won’t stop eating his jelly donuts. I mean that is his choice but that is not the point. We sit and complain about how the work is too hard and then more often than not we sit and stare at the blank sheet of paper that is supposed to be covered in words. And as we sit and stare we think of what we could do with that little blank sheet, in the end we always light the damn thing on fire and watch it burn, and in that little fire we see the building that we also want to see burn to the ground. Back to the point, as we sit in the plain rooms and listen to the half dictator we learn. There will be some people who will try to listen, but no matter how hard they try the words go in one ear and out the other and on the day of the test they say what was that about again. I know that this to some people may not be that entertaining but it is to others. Today if we wanted to have our project done the day before it was due all we have to do is copy from a friend or better yet copy from the internet. If we know nothing we would never come up with the internet, the light bulb, or strip clubs.

By: James Schwartz on www.bibliofaction.com

He was ranting about people, their idiocies, their little quirks that annoy him — everything bad about them. He would toss out random examples when a passer-by with an expression or clothes he didn’t like pass them, and he would bring out the mistakes their mutual friends had made. She listened to him in silence, only fingering the torn straw wrapper once in a while.

“What do you hate most about yourself, then?”

She halted his flow purposefully, and stared at him. It was intentional — her question — but she was curious too, intrigued, fascinated by the possible colours of his soul.

She gave him time to think.

“I hate it when I miss people’s kindness, only to realise them later on.”

There was a second, and two, and three; they said nothing then.

“I hate it most when I realise it too late.”

By: Hasanah Hussien on www.bibliofaction.com