My Regrets.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is just a short 800+ word story, just to see if people will enjoy this story.
This is a story about love, anger, depression, hatred and regret. This is a story about the everyday stresses of a teenage life. This is a story about me. This is a story highlighting my mistakes and missfortune and publishing my regrets to the unforgiving world.

Submitted: May 03, 2017

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Submitted: May 03, 2017



This is a story about love, anger, depression, hatred and regret. This is a story about the everyday stresses of a teenage life. This is a story about me.

 I’m just a normal young kid at the relative age of 8 and I’ve been asked, “well? What would you like to be little jimmy?” spoken by a elderly woman, most likely in her forties, but spoken in a calm; relaxing tone. “err- “was the only answer I knew at the age, however due to the continuous stream of the TV show ‘How I met your mother’ I was aware of one job which I personally loved the idea of. This job involved my favourite hobby, doodling in my work books, organising my space and keeping everything neat, this job was architecture.

Although I knew nothing about any other job or about the subjects I would need for architecture, I knew exactly what it was about and who my all-time hero was - architect Ted Mosby from How I met your mother. This idea of me raising to be the prodigy of a successful architecture firm baffled my teachers and knowing that one day I may show of my drawing skills to the world and leave it behind for the future historians left me determined.

In year 3 I was at all F’s for all my subjects, not that the alphabetical grading system was implemented at that time in my school, and I was the one pupil who dedicated themselves to avoiding work. The moment we earned WI-FI in the house, I took the time scarcely to ‘google’ the subjects I will need to do well in to achieve my goal of the reality version ted Mosby. From that day on I climbed to the top of the classes I was in and dedicated my time and effort into practicing and self-teaching myself the beauty and complexity of art and the mind-boggling puzzle of mathematics.

Due to my dedication to learning maths, I quickly became the favourite student of the wacky, brilliant but clumsy teacher Mr Frogger (or at least that’s going to be his name for now), he was a loud teacher, a harsh teacher; a disciplined teacher. But also, loved fun. On our none school uniform days he would come into school in his avengers dressing gown – with clothes underneath of course – and he would show off his amazing super hero poses. He was my favourite teacher, and rightfully so, until we lost the best subject we had…

I was in year 5 and half way through to year 6 when the great subject loss happened, we lost the music block due to not enough money to fund for the instruments. This was a depressing moment for the whole school since the only music teacher (Miss Maggaty we will call her for now) was sacked and kicked to the kerb with no pre-warning and all the instruments sold off. This was the most substantial time for the school since the behaviour of the pupils dropped to an all-time low, you don’t mess with our most favoured teachers without paying the price…

With the behaviour dropping to an all-time low, we were forced into a new system where you stay on the left-hand side of the corridors, much like a car on a motorway, but this didn’t work very well since the undisciplined bunch of pupils opposed the new system and gave the new head mistress a stressful of phone calls to parents. Whilst this did not stop any shunned behaviour, what really got under their skin was the new hall monitors. These hall monitors were the goody two shoes stereotype student who sucks up to their teachers and basically kisses their arse! These new hall monitors had hatred against the shunned population since these rebel pupils were generally the ones who showed the goody two shoes what the term bully really entitled. Anytime you even stepped to the right-hand side you would be sent to the head mistress’s office. And so I lived with this hell for one more year in year six. Thank Christ it wasn’t any longer!

So, those hall monitors weren’t the only ones who got bullied during school, I did too. It was this gargantuan bellied, miniscule minded prick called (Jerald jean shall be his name for now). He always came to school with steel toe capped shoes, ready to kick me in; I hated him due to his uncanny ability to copy my work and get away with it because of the reason, “oh, well he has some…issues which would kick the rules to the kerb for him.” Poppycock is what I say to that reference from my year 3 teachers. I was always the one who gets in trouble for what he did since he has ‘special’ issues. Special issues my arse! That’s just an excuse his mother made up because she’s too lazy to get up of her fat behind to apologise to the school whenever he did something unacceptable.

© Copyright 2018 Z.C.Sanderson. All rights reserved.

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