Sinking
005.
2006.
When I was sixteen I let the school catch me with three ounces of pot. I hated school. I’m not kidding; I literally hated it. The people in it, the pathetic teachers, the ridiculous rules, the redundant lessons, and the fact that you had to be there at eight in freakin’ morning. You couldn’t leave to get lunch and you were required to have a semester of gym every single year. I had already learned all of that stuff backwards and forwards. Grades didn’t matter to me.
I had to get out of there. I was sixteen – I could legally drop out of school. But my parents would never be okay with that (or I had myself believe that, anyway) and there were some teachers I didn’t want to think they failed me or some bullshit. Like Mr. Galloway, my English teacher. Or Mrs. Anderson, my math teacher. They would think that it was something they did. And it wasn’t anything personal – I even almost considered staying in school for the rest of the year because of them. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
So I bought weed off of some stoner kid in the parking lot an hour before school started. I paid forty dollars, and wasn’t sure if I was ripped off. I couldn’t really afford getting high every weekend, so I didn’t know what a good price was. But I only needed it once because our school had a zero tolerance policy and the drug dogs were scheduled to come by today (I got such information from places you don’t need to fucking know) and it was the perfect opportunity. I shoved my backpack full of pot and stuck in my locker for the police to find.
Go out with a bang.
It wasn’t really planned out for long, so it would come as a surprise to Take. He wouldn’t take it well – he had always been pushing me to ‘fulfill my potential’ – whatever that means. The difference between me and him was that he had parents to impress and friends to stick around in school. I had Take and a few other people, but that was it. Take had the entire upper class on his side and the freshmen worshiped him from afar. School was the perfect place for a kid like him. But not me.
I hated organized sports, spit on freshman, slept during class, and didn’t take anything seriously.
Call it what you want – self destructive, lazy – whatever. I didn’t want to be there anymore, so I wouldn’t stay. Not that I recommend my methods to anyone; I never do. It’s definitely not something someone should follow suit in. It’s a misdemeanor and it’s almost a miracle I didn’t get criminal charges – I just got expelled.
I can only imagine Take’s face when he realized I got kicked out of school. I’m sure in was priceless. But I’m sure it wasn’t a surprise, at the same time.
My only regret is that I let Take down. He was the only one who believed I could do anything in life, and I couldn’t even finish high school for him.
When I was sixteen I let the school catch me with three ounces of pot. I hated school. I’m not kidding; I literally hated it. The people in it, the pathetic teachers, the ridiculous rules, the redundant lessons, and the fact that you had to be there at eight in freakin’ morning. You couldn’t leave to get lunch and you were required to have a semester of gym every single year. I had already learned all of that stuff backwards and forwards. Grades didn’t matter to me.
I had to get out of there. I was sixteen – I could legally drop out of school. But my parents would never be okay with that (or I had myself believe that, anyway) and there were some teachers I didn’t want to think they failed me or some bullshit. Like Mr. Galloway, my English teacher. Or Mrs. Anderson, my math teacher. They would think that it was something they did. And it wasn’t anything personal – I even almost considered staying in school for the rest of the year because of them. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
So I bought weed off of some stoner kid in the parking lot an hour before school started. I paid forty dollars, and wasn’t sure if I was ripped off. I couldn’t really afford getting high every weekend, so I didn’t know what a good price was. But I only needed it once because our school had a zero tolerance policy and the drug dogs were scheduled to come by today (I got such information from places you don’t need to fucking know) and it was the perfect opportunity. I shoved my backpack full of pot and stuck in my locker for the police to find.
Go out with a bang.
It wasn’t really planned out for long, so it would come as a surprise to Take. He wouldn’t take it well – he had always been pushing me to ‘fulfill my potential’ – whatever that means. The difference between me and him was that he had parents to impress and friends to stick around in school. I had Take and a few other people, but that was it. Take had the entire upper class on his side and the freshmen worshiped him from afar. School was the perfect place for a kid like him. But not me.
I hated organized sports, spit on freshman, slept during class, and didn’t take anything seriously.
Call it what you want – self destructive, lazy – whatever. I didn’t want to be there anymore, so I wouldn’t stay. Not that I recommend my methods to anyone; I never do. It’s definitely not something someone should follow suit in. It’s a misdemeanor and it’s almost a miracle I didn’t get criminal charges – I just got expelled.
I can only imagine Take’s face when he realized I got kicked out of school. I’m sure in was priceless. But I’m sure it wasn’t a surprise, at the same time.
My only regret is that I let Take down. He was the only one who believed I could do anything in life, and I couldn’t even finish high school for him.