Imprisonment:beggining of chapter 5

I’ve been consumed in a blur of school. Lessons and knew faces are appearing round every corner, meaning I have to accept yet emptier minded fools. However, on a more positive note I do get some more interesting teachers this year. I am yet to discover my new teachers: Mrs Parsons, Ms Longden, Mr Stout, Mrs Smith, Ms Morris and all the rest I cannot remember at this moment. 1

I am least of all, looking forward to sitting through Mr Stouts lessons, I have met his son, and my first impressions were: boring, dronefull and absolutely positively the worst person to discuss anything with. If they are one in two, I’m in for a crappy Chemistry lesson and the worst end to a Tuesday afternoon.2

In my other hand, I have the interesting once a week English lesson with Ms Longden. Her daughter Thayer has been in most of my ‘lessons’, she gives me an odd impression of a mix between sheep and wolf. I know she teaches (or taught) Sixth form English, but I’ve heard much considerate things about her, than I have any of my new ‘teachers’.3

I’m 5 weeks into the new term (only two more weeks of unpleasant imprisonment) and once again I can’t sleep. My minds buzzing white noise, my eyes ache with concentration, my hands shake with cold and my ears seem to be the only part of me that isn’t groaning in protest of my lack of rest. In order to sleep, some one once told me, you must bore the mind with a mundane task. Well mine so happens to be tonight, typing random words into the dictionary website. In fact, one can learn many things by doing this, for instance, I was unaware that an anonym of intellect is emotion. Is this written proof that capability cannot be achieved with emotion? 4

But then again, why should I ponder such degrading unanswerable questions as such, that just lead you around in what seems to be a never ending circle. 5

Restlessly I scan my dull thoughts, only to find that fatigue christens them. 6

A lost phrase I once heard: “Tired of the same old sandwiches”   7

A rush of ice a, whirling blur of smoke and dots. Faceless angels taunt you, and everything seems to take an eternity of epiphany to end in your mind.   8

Little details, small glitches, tiny errors. They plague your thoughts like a hive of frenzied crypt scarabs. I can’t sleep. Again.9