4:56 pm - Monday, Dec. 09, 2002
Song:
Did you embarrass the poor girl? I ask her and she holds her finger slightly apart. A little bit.
Some people agree you're a decent teacher, you say. and some write you typed notes. You spied the letter she can't give you on her desk and asked about it. Wait... who agrees you're a decent teacher? I brushed over that part and I choke laugh at your words.
You're going out of your way to compliment me. I wonder if you really feel power in my words, or if you're worried I'll retaliate again against your teaching. "Fantastic job, Megan, really amazing." I don't like earnesty in his voice because it feels like lies.
This class makes me long to write for no one because they can't respond, but that isn't right. I have to share, or I haven't nearly poured it out. There is no way what I write is in any way "fantastic".
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