Soliloquy Series

My high school freshman English assignment to write a soliloquy had a number of starts. The first two are initial attempts, and the last is the one I went with. The second one, I'm ashamed to say, is a satirical impression of a group of people I guess I had a bit of a prejudice against. One should never presume to know someone, I have since learned. Here's to forgiveness and the chance to change.

 The hands on the clock travel through molasses and as I urge them hasten, to what end I know not, neither do I care, they seem not to hear.  The endless hours of seeming nothingness stretch on in vast galaxies of boredom.  Ah, Boredom!  A name I know all too well.  How often have I groaned it into my folded arms while in my desk I offered an unheard invocation for its end?  How many dormant weekends have been wasted in its terrible, unholy trenches?  

Like, OH MY GOSH!  I can't believe Tracey is being so, like, unbelievably harsh!  Just 'cause I made cheerleading captain.  And I'm prettier.  And I stole her boyfriend.  'Che!  That's still waaay harshhh.  She thinks I don't hear her talking about me during practice.  But I'm not completely blonde.  I have brown highlights!  Okay, so, like, I'm walking in the mall and I stop by the nail studio 'cause even though Prom isn't for 10 months, I really think I should prep my cuticles.  Early bird gets the extremely hott football captain!  So, anyway, I'm sitting there with my fingers soaking and the totally adorable Korean lady is laying out the polish.  Guess who comes in?  You got that right!  It's the Korean lady's oober dorky younger brother, Chin Ho.  But, then, right behind him Tracey comes in and she, like, makes snotty face at me!  And then she has the nerve to sit right behind me!  I was, like, totally there first!  If that wasn't horrible enough, like, then, some football players walk by and see the completely perverseness of her presence!  I was soo mortified.  I'm soo totally not her friend.  Like, I don't want them thinking I associate with her.  So I was talking to my bff Stacey about this, and she, like, completely agrees with me.  Stacey totally thinks Tracey's skanky. 

Ah, woe.  Woe to be thrust into a so piteous state as this.

Woe to be so tormented with such horrific maledies as Homework!

Such plagues as Responsibility, as Hormones, as ANGST!

The disembodied souls which striveth to purge their sins

(that they might ascend) could not have greater stability than youth,

who do daily learn life's harsh balance.  They learn to walk.

To walk the road. On one side lies infancy's simplicity and felicity

On the other, lay like a beckoning beacon, adulthood's greater majesty and power.

Yet, even still, we know that learning is indeed a most terrifyng venture

and this learning can only be achieved through that slow

and arduous tutor (whom we call "experience", more rather "task master").

Nay, I speak amiss, for there is yet one tutor who surpasses this in ferocity.

One tutor who's constant, keening voice is like an itch.

Once scratched, it itches a little more.  Scratched again.  Itch. 

An untiring cycle, the keening progresses until it produces a model citizen.

The tutor's affection, once a gentle guardian against life's ills,

now becomes a prison from which escape is inevitable, but not hasty in approach.

Yet still cage*d are our youth, as prisoners who cannot appreciate,

yet dare not question their confinement. Lestwise give their jailers

a reason to become, in addition, craftsmen of discomfort.

Further more, yes there is yet more, ANGST ANGST ANGST

ANGST ANGST ANGSTY ANGST ANGSTIN' ANGSTY ANGST