The answer?
Life
I am the worst player on my "team". (Tennis)
The Literary Magazine sponsor (the teacher who ran it) quit, and is moving to Tahoe, before we even had a ligament meeting.
I had a chunk of flesh missing from my leg that refuses to heal.
My arm is sore from tennis.
My Chemistry teacher is an ass .
I have to bake cookies next Tuesday for a bake sale. (It's in the 90s or plus degrees.)
But, oddly enough, I am completely happy with my life.
I love my friends.
I (I'm embarrassed to say this) like being in these clubs.
I will get better at tennis, and even if I don't, I will have fun.
I mess with my chemistry teacher's head. (By the end of every class he thinks I have some new mental/emotional problems. Last class it was bipolar.)
Life is good.
When the fuck did I get so positive?
Has my mother been slipping me Prozac? (It's likely....)
1 comments:
Hey, there's nothing wrong with being positive. I had to force myself to think positively.
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