Another Big Fish in the Pond

Marit Guy's dreams have crashed and burned, and everyone's danced around in the ashes.


1. Boring...

January 17th

Dear journal,

Roller coasters, am I right? You know the moment when you get out and suddenly feel relieved that you survived the day, then suddenly realize that you're going to be forced to go on another one? The feeling of going up, down, and upside down? Hearing your friends scream and screaming with them? The torture of going through one after the other, and rarely finding one that doesn't kill you to go on? Roller coasters are a lot like class. You always think that it's over, but you have to go to another class. You've got to go around the world to accomplish the homework, then find out that it wasn't going to be graded anyway. Hating about every class, and, when you finally find a class you love, it turns out that you'll only have it for a small amount of time. Roller coasters are a lot like class.

And, eventually, you just get tired of doing it over and over again, and you just wanna quit.

And I quit.

Yup, I sure did. 

This morning, I woke up and looked over my study guide for the one-hundred-and-fifty-questioned algebra test that was scheduled for today, then suddenly decided that I didn't want to take it. I had stayed back THREE YEARS due to the fact that I couldn't pass this test, which counted for fifty percent of your grade. If you failed the test, you stayed in your grade.

Lawrence, Wesley, Aaron, Sue, and I had stayed back together all three years. We were all nineteen, and we were still in tenth grade.

I thought for a minute and developed a plan.

I called them up and said that I'd be dropping out of school. They didn't seem surprised for some reason.

"I knew it was coming," said Lawrence.

"Wow, that's WAY out of character," said Sue sarcastically. I could almost hear her eyes roll.

Wesley gasped like he was surprised. "Omigosh, I'm so...not surprised," he said, imitating the bratty teens off of those weird soap operas.

Aaron just screamed, "YES! MY BEST FRIEND FINALLY BROKE!"

As you know, dear journal, I don't usually write this kind of stuff inside you, but let me tell you something...

I haven't asked Mom about it yet.

Yes, I'm stupid, but aren't we all?

I promise, journal, I'll ask later.

Thanks for worrying,

Marit Guy, the average girl with hair dyed neon red

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