I’ve always loved the sun. It makes every colour look brighter, every morning lighter. Even exercising looks quite tempting when the sun is out and shining. Of course, every time I do, I still get hurt. I’ll get hit by a ball, fall on the concrete, hyperventilate or sprain a muscle, and in addition the sun will burn my skin for taking too long to get back inside.
It feels like asking a question in a full classroom. Firstly, you collect just enough courage to raise your hand, trembling, making you look like an unemployed ballroom dancer. When you’re allowed to speak aloud, you ask your question. Shut up, shut up, shuttity up, your brain says, so your words get mixed up. Once you’ve managed to spit it out, you get a reward of laughter for being too stupid to know that the exact answer is in the textbook right in front of you or worse, has just been mentioned when you were wrestling with your skyscraping arm. Still, even that doesn’t feel half as bad when the sun is burning you alive.

I love you, sun, but fuck off.


I don’t like swearing. Swearing is as useless as
flirting with a teacher. It won’t get you anywhere,
but it sort of feels good. Swearing makes you look
impatient, rude and careless. Saying ‘fuck’ around
every other sentence is like farting every fifteen
minutes. You can’t just stop doing it, because people
never forget your sins. You’ll always be the one
who did.
On the other hand, swearing takes away your anger.
It weakens your frustration, it reduces stress and
anxiety. Hell, I’d even say swearing is good for
the heart. Come on then, what’s more important:
your heart or being polite?
To me, this isn’t such an easy question. Which leads me
to my final statement:

I don’t fucking like swearing.