It has only been three years, yet I feel like I have been in high school forever—a painful, agonizing eternity. And what’s worse than sitting in a desk day after day, wishing and hoping to leave this purgatory? Finally getting to leave, cap and gown in hand, only to have the rest of our lives pass us by in a heart beat…
“You! Explain to the class what the electron transport train is.”
And just like that, I’m back in this godforsaken chair. I clear my throat and proceed to answer Mr. Sullivan’s question. Erm, demand.
“Uh. A chain that transports electrons?”
With a furrow of the brows, Mr. Sullivan turns to the person sitting next me. As if on cue, Pepper fluffs her hair as she explains in full detail about something that I will probably never encounter again in my life—at least not as an English major. Satisfied that one person in the class has been paying attention, Mr. Sullivan turns back to the board where his doodles of indecipherable biological processes awaited him. And I…returned to my journal.