honest, and being surrounded by people and feeling alone is the worst type of loneliness.
"Von Steemberg." I finally come back to planet earth because of this professor I haven't even looked at yet.
I am tired of listening to my surname every time I am in class, like, I barely bother in here. I don’t know what the matter with all of them is.
Oh, yes, now I see; Ms. Morgan. A grown-up widow that doesn't even know what the hell she has to teach the students. She is the one who is supposed to talk about Plato and Aristotle's —she is the philosophy teacher, obviously— but instead she talks about cakes and muffins and stuff that has anything to do with the subject. Plus: it makes students want to die because of the food part. Ms. Morgan should be working at a bakery instead of working at this college a.k.a. Jail.
"Yes?" I ask seconds later because of my fatigue on answering her. By the way, she only screamed my name and I thought she was going to ask me to give her my lunch or whatever I have to eat.
It amazes me that she even said that Plato in Spanish means plate , like the plate where people TEND TO EAT.
Our conversation isn't going to have sense at all, so I don't care.
"Are you listening to what I'm saying?" she is looking at me like an old grandma, exactly like when you don't want to eat the soup she has made especially for you.
I don't even care to move or to look at her in a better way, like trying to say yes I am Ms. Morgan with my body language.
"Right now, I am," I say.
"Well, well, well, lady. So you can tell me what I was just saying..." she speaks.
You might have beem talking about how tasty the lemon pie you tried yesterday was.
I think I am going to stand up and punch her in the middle of her face. Since when I am so violent? Lately people make me act this way.
As soon as she asked me that, I was about to tell her that her class was about anything but what should be about, because, let’s be honest, philosophy is like a break; she never taught us something coherent and she makes me want to eat my own fingers because of (1) how much she love food and (2) how much she talks about it and finally, (3) I feel slightly disgusted by her, so eating my fingers wouldn't be a bad idea.
"Really?" I inquire without wanting to speak.
"Really what?" Ms. Morgan pauses for a pair of seconds waiting for me to answer "Yes, really," she repeats.
"Are you going to do this at college?" I take a deep breath. "That's what I meant; really? Are you making me repeat what you've said at college? It's stupid" I kind of get even madder than I should but I know I AM RIGHT.
I am here supposedly because I want to be here and if I cared about my career I wouldn't have had a fight with every single person in here. They don't help at all, they are all dorks and I like to pick up fights from time to time.
"Or maybe if you weren't thinking about your boyfriend this conversation would've never existed," she places one hand over the professors desk and stares with a look of suspect directly at me.
What the hell did she say?
" Uh uh, I don't have a boyfriend, Ms. Morgan," suddenly I feel respect towards her because I am absolutely embarrassed, but at the same time I feel excited about the fact that she thought Theodore was my boyfriend. Maybe Professor Morgan isn't the only one who thinks that way.
I realize everyone is looking and talking about me —I guess— because of the way they are looking.
Who would have ever thought people would talk about me? The best part: they are talking about me because of Theodore. Even better: they think he is my boyfriend.
Great! Best day ever! I don't know either to start smiling or to cry on the floor while everybody is looking at me because THEY KEEP STARING, God.
I realize Ms. Morgan starts to walk towards my direction and coughs, making everybody silent. She sighs and finally speaks "If you don't know what this class is about I offer you to walk away," she smiles with disguise and
"Von Steemberg." I finally come back to planet earth because of this professor I haven't even looked at yet.
I am tired of listening to my surname every time I am in class, like, I barely bother in here. I don’t know what the matter with all of them is.
Oh, yes, now I see; Ms. Morgan. A grown-up widow that doesn't even know what the hell she has to teach the students. She is the one who is supposed to talk about Plato and Aristotle's —she is the philosophy teacher, obviously— but instead she talks about cakes and muffins and stuff that has anything to do with the subject. Plus: it makes students want to die because of the food part. Ms. Morgan should be working at a bakery instead of working at this college a.k.a. Jail.
"Yes?" I ask seconds later because of my fatigue on answering her. By the way, she only screamed my name and I thought she was going to ask me to give her my lunch or whatever I have to eat.
It amazes me that she even said that Plato in Spanish means plate , like the plate where people TEND TO EAT.
Our conversation isn't going to have sense at all, so I don't care.
"Are you listening to what I'm saying?" she is looking at me like an old grandma, exactly like when you don't want to eat the soup she has made especially for you.
I don't even care to move or to look at her in a better way, like trying to say yes I am Ms. Morgan with my body language.
"Right now, I am," I say.
"Well, well, well, lady. So you can tell me what I was just saying..." she speaks.
You might have beem talking about how tasty the lemon pie you tried yesterday was.
I think I am going to stand up and punch her in the middle of her face. Since when I am so violent? Lately people make me act this way.
As soon as she asked me that, I was about to tell her that her class was about anything but what should be about, because, let’s be honest, philosophy is like a break; she never taught us something coherent and she makes me want to eat my own fingers because of (1) how much she love food and (2) how much she talks about it and finally, (3) I feel slightly disgusted by her, so eating my fingers wouldn't be a bad idea.
"Really?" I inquire without wanting to speak.
"Really what?" Ms. Morgan pauses for a pair of seconds waiting for me to answer "Yes, really," she repeats.
"Are you going to do this at college?" I take a deep breath. "That's what I meant; really? Are you making me repeat what you've said at college? It's stupid" I kind of get even madder than I should but I know I AM RIGHT.
I am here supposedly because I want to be here and if I cared about my career I wouldn't have had a fight with every single person in here. They don't help at all, they are all dorks and I like to pick up fights from time to time.
"Or maybe if you weren't thinking about your boyfriend this conversation would've never existed," she places one hand over the professors desk and stares with a look of suspect directly at me.
What the hell did she say?
" Uh uh, I don't have a boyfriend, Ms. Morgan," suddenly I feel respect towards her because I am absolutely embarrassed, but at the same time I feel excited about the fact that she thought Theodore was my boyfriend. Maybe Professor Morgan isn't the only one who thinks that way.
I realize everyone is looking and talking about me —I guess— because of the way they are looking.
Who would have ever thought people would talk about me? The best part: they are talking about me because of Theodore. Even better: they think he is my boyfriend.
Great! Best day ever! I don't know either to start smiling or to cry on the floor while everybody is looking at me because THEY KEEP STARING, God.
I realize Ms. Morgan starts to walk towards my direction and coughs, making everybody silent. She sighs and finally speaks "If you don't know what this class is about I offer you to walk away," she smiles with disguise and
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