Coloring

The sound of scribbles fill the classroom, that we thought was filled with enough noise already.

Sophie writes with purple. Garret writes in blue. I just assume those are their favorite colors. What does that even mean anyway?

"Yeah, my favorite color is green."

"Why?"

"Uh... it is."

Okay... I wrote in orange, yellow was too light, and I would do anything but pink. I hate pink. My sister taught me you can be a girl, but that doesn't mean you have to be girly. At least, that's what I got out of it. And that's why I despised pink.

I had a blanket, quilt, and pillowcase that were yellow, and I LOVED them. Yellow was my favorite color. Now, so are sparkles. That's a color, right?

"Time to rap it up." The teacher clasped her hands while speaking.

Whining throughout the room. I didn't join the whining, I just struggled to finish my artwork in time.

"If you aren't finished, you can take it home for homework."

I'd done that countless times.

Can't I just go back?

I want crayons and watercolors, not some gibberish algebra. Because now I'm here and my best talent is my ability to procrastinate. Successful, right?

Can success be an unbroken imagination and new perspectives? Because if you don't want to think inside the box, why not get rid of it?

Is it because English, Math and History? A one way gate to Hades. Thanks, school. Thanks.