Summary : Gym teachers are evil.
Gym Teachers
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Dear Diary,
I've never liked gym class. Like never. Everyone's so sweaty around you, I'm no good at any sports, and the locker room smells like sweat and pancakes. What in the hell would make the locker room smell like pancakes, but I'm not too keen on finding out. I'd hate to look in my gym locker and find a half eaten stack of hot cakes, but I'm anticipating it. Seriously. How esle would a cement box of hot, sweaty girls smell like pancakes? That's all the locker room is, a friggin' cement box filled to the brim with people who want to be anywhere else.
It's torture.
The supervisor hasn't the slightest clue of what's going on, and frankly it doesn't seem like they care too much, as long as we get into our uniforms and sweat. All they want to do is see you sweat, you know that? They don't care if you're sick or dying or on your period, as long as you sweat. They want you to sweat buckets and buckets of water and salt and anything else that comes out with sweat. They don't understand, what if I need all that fluid? It's in my body for a reason, Mr. Gym Teacher, and I don't think it's fair you want it all over my face.
And that is cruel and unusual.
The worst part of it all are the tests! Out of all subjects, why would we ever need to know how many halfs in a game of water polo? Having tests in gym makes no sense at all. If all we're going to do in the class is run around and climbing ropes, I don't think there's any need for a test.
It's a fact, gym teachers are evil.
Literally.
I'm being completely serious right now. Gym teachers are evil. All of them are. I have the scars to prove it! My gym teachers tried to kill me just yesterday. They were all sputtering nonsense about my mom being some kind of fairy or something, but that can't be real because fairies don't exist. All of them became so convinced that I was some kind of mythical being that they tried to stab me with some weird blade. I've got a scar under my right eye because of that damned It's all nonsense, I think.
Or at least I used too.
Besides, my mom died when I was three. I don't remember much about her, but I know she had these bright green eyes. They seemed unnatural, but I never questioned them. Instead, I'd look into them, forever and forever. When I close my own green eyes, I still see hers. My dad left me when I was seven, and I remember everything about him. He used to be so warm, until she died. Then, he just shut me out. He never looked me in the eye after that. I can't say why, but I get the feeling that it had nothing to do with me.
Sasuke thinks so, too. Sasuke's been my best friend since I can remember, and he's been the one taking care of my since my dad walked out on me. He's never left my side since. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a crush on him, but I tried to keep everything as friendly as possible. He's never had to ask me if I needed anything, he always just knew.
And for that, I'm grateful.
Diary, remember when I told you that I used to think that fairies didn't exist? Well, the thing that's changed my mind are the heavy green wings fluttering against my back as I write this.
Yeah...they might have been right.
Damn gym teachers.