sensational
 
I would rather be:
painting (but maybe not skirting boards like you my Adelaide and London rennovating buddies!) reading comics
licking someone's salted skin
swimming in a cool blue sea
feeling some dark drum beat through my body with lasers sweeping over my eyelids
biting someone
running down a hill so fast I think I'm going to tumble and collide and graze myself and stain everything green grass
 
anything but this grey, quiet, tinkling key office world. We are like sad grey battery hens in collars and cuffs under flouro lights, getting iritable and pecking each other because we can't feel the bite of the sun on our feathers or the grit of dirt under our claws. get me out of here.
 
(See earlier 'why I am a teenager' entry and now add ' because I am writing about how much 'school' sucks')