Contemplate

It's the eve of my last first day of grade school ever.* I should have something to say, something about friends and learning and everything that's changed me over the years, but I don't. All I can think about is how much I don't want to go tomorrow, how much I don't want to write this stupid AP Gov essay, and how much I would rather be at camp right now. I was there earlier today. It seems wrong that I can move from a place like camp, where I feel at home, to a place where I don't want to be at all and is slowly sucking my soul in less than 24 hours.
The soul sucking is speeding up.
I still don't want to go.
I hate this essay. Hopefully the teacher will think that I don't know how to write and have very low expectations for me. Because that's all that's getting written tonight.
I'm so done with school.
I'm going to work on the architectural/Escher drawing every evening this week until I'm finished with the inking. This will take eons.
*Smile and nod. I know that it didn't make sense.