Schoolbound Enemies

I'm afraid I've been living under the realization that I have no creative energy. That, and what few ideas I have, I do not have the time to write about. (Oh, the joys of AP classes.)

It is shameful, I know, to give up so easily on that which is loved in regards to the horror that is homework. Of course, that is not all that I am subjecting myself to. For, what is life without false fears and miserable points of depression? What is day to day progression without wondering just what the purpose of being is, and why people who are allegedly so close to you chose to continuously do things that seem designed to hurt you?

Perhaps that goes without saying, though? Perhaps I simply blow such things out of proportion?
I wonder though, if anyone else struggles to evade the voices of so many others yelling at them within their own minds.

I have come to a point where I in order to appease the shouts, I have become deliberately offensive, cruel in regards to religion. Although, in my defense, the piece followed all that was required of my paper for school. However, I failed to realized that my teacher was catholic (should that be capitalized?), and so I offended her. Twenty-two point deduction.

That's alright though. It has been far too long with teachers that I respect and like. It has been unnerving. It has been quite a while since I have done something terrible, something to attribute to the satanic reputation people attribute to me and the hate I can apparently inspire without even trying. Indeed, perhaps this has been long overdue. And I shall take it as a challenge, no matter how my grade shall suffer.

However, I am ranting. I am lost within the maze of my own mind. I am typing for some reason. I have actually posted something.

It is not truly something that I wrote creatively, on my own time. Rather, something I managed to write because of an odd relationship with a teacher and a subject I loathed. And a write-up I enjoyed so much and wrote in such a way that I simply had to post it.

It is rather cold-hearted and differs greatly from the rest of my writings, in honesty. It is perhaps far more revealing than all else that I have written. But to lose it would sadden me. And so, loosely shaped upon the (hardly) changing role of women in the 19th century: Conformity.