School ripped the passion I had for writing out of my soul and buried it in a pile of shit a million miles away. And that’s the thing - school is meant to make you flourish - it’s supposed to reach deep into your mind and fill your head with passion, knowledge, education. Yet I spend my nights with my overused notebook open, pages seeping with endless memories and turmoil suffered over the years, and I am afraid that if I write something incorrectly, I’ll get a bad grade. My mind has been corrupted by an infinite amount of stimulus and criteria, so much so that I can’t even write one, simple word. I can’t write about my own experiences, my own pain or my own happiness. School has fucked me so many times. I lack passion and the desire to live. I’ll never be the person to say that school handed me the best years of my life. It’s stolen my life.
And you tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake… You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that. And if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.