Should I fear you?
With your quizzical brow
And gaze as hard as steel?
Should I run from your shadow
And never once look back?
But for my tongue to be true,
Terror is more than I allow
Even fumbling at your heel.
To the dustings of cowardice, I ask "how?"
How could you expect I take so shameful a track?
With madness in my soul, I will always stand
Whether I win or lose, this was once my land
Yesterday my Lit. teacher started individual meetings with everyone in the class to let us know how we're doing and such. Mine was typical in the sense that he asked me to describe my participation (which he wanted us each to relay to him as an introduction, for some reason). He then proceeded to call me a pretentious, arrogant person who doesn't speak to others. I laughed.
Apparently, laughing hurt his feelings, but I couldn't stop. Also, I have a default look that he interprets as utter disgust for him and his teachings. I clearly feel myself superior and without need of school.
This made me insanely happy.
Gah, who gets excited over being called arrogant? (I may very well be crazy.)
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