Hello, to my harmonious readers. My sister and I have been to war and back. Our blood-curdling experiences from our high school prison sentence bond us together. We are forever left traumatized by the atrocities witnessed on the battlefield. No wall was left without a penis. No soldier (student) was left intact after years of taking constructive criticism. I still clearly hear the voices of my comrade’s yowling obscenities into the wind.
Going through the gates of high school was like walking through the gates of hell and straight onto the battlefield. Any energy I felt was bled from my body once I stepped foot on the prison grounds. I was left zombified. For the rest of the day, I tried to blend in with my surroundings. I needed to go unnoticed and be a fly on the wall. I watched on in fear as my fellow counterparts came under fire. I tried hard not to commit social suicide, but the socially cool rules of school were like mine bombs. You never knew when you’d be blown to shit.
As the siren rang, we were herded into our cells (classrooms) like sheep. The generals (teachers) endlessly tortured us with mind-numbing lectures. They fired assignments at us like missiles and blew us out of the water. By the end, I felt like I’d taken a marathon through a desert. Yet, I left with so much knowledge that my brain spiralled into insanity.
As lunch rolled around, I watched in dismay as countless, over-confident young soldiers tried to enter the battlefield. But, unfortunately, they were lost too soon. The poor fools drew too much attention to themselves and were immediately nuked.
By the end of the day, I hobbled off the bus like a World War 2 veteran soldier. I had been bombed to smithereens. I laid lifeless in my carriage, trying to collect myself from the gutter. But my hell wasn’t finished. The generals had made deadlines for war on the same day. So, whatever brain cell I had left, I used to complete my numerous assignments. There was no respite from the horrors of homework.
Over the years, the generals tried implementing many cruel and incomprehensible rules, such as no drinking water during class time. You could be assassinated (suspended) for wearing the wrong leggings. Soldiers were not permitted to enter the classrooms during mandated lunch periods, even when we were being blasted by severe heat and rain. It was like we signed up for military boot camp. Our uniforms offered no warmth, and wearing outside winter coats was another reason for assassination (suspension).
Some soldiers tried to sneak into the music room but were caught, flogged, and booted out into the freezing cold, like roadkill. Meanwhile, the generals remained safe in their stronghold (staff room) with heating blasted on high, drinking nice cups of tea, as the roadkill glared through the windows. Many of us had been badly beaten during the training lessons (class). We were already dwindling in numbers. We didn’t need to be further battered and blasted by the elements.
Like some twisted joke, the bathrooms were continuously locked, and access was limited. Soldiers were forced to degrade themselves further by begging the generals for a key. One poor soldier had been taunted and denied access far too long and sadly couldn’t make it in time.
Any means of contact with the outside world was confiscated. God forbid if you were badly injured or had a life-threatening illness. You might as well have been dead. No one was coming to help you. We used to walk past the fallen soldiers sprawled across the ground, wailing in the breeze, begging for someone to make a phone call to their parents.
Some tried to rise against the dictatorial military regime by painting penises on the prison walls. One comrade hit the chief officer with a cake from the top of a balcony. Luckily for the soldier, he was never caught for his crimes.
Those who refused to comply were captured and put in solitary confinement. They were never seen again, never allowed to mingle with society. It’s like they were picking us off one by one by taking the most strong-willed and weakening our forces.
By the end of our time, in the trenches. My sister and I were shellshocked. We had been repeatedly bombed with assignments, assemblies, and “constructive criticism”. Our minds were disturbed. My thoughts go out to all who are entering high school and those who’ve already gone through the battle. I wish you a speedy recovery. May your evenings be free from homework and the use of a toilet unlimited, and if you’re lucky, good toilet paper and actual soap.
This post is a silly depiction of high school. Only some of the content is true.
Jasmine
