fiction is always better than reality, no contest there.

take my current situation: sitting in summer school in a desk that's digging about a million splinters onto the back of my thighs and sweating out of every pore orifice place that's not supposed to sweat in the first place and listening to miss i couldn't give a fuck about these inner city kids if my life depended on it lecture on and on.

where would i rather be?

hell i don't even know the answer to that yet. but not here, that's for sure.