Today I suddenly found myself festering in bitter memories. Maybe this was brought on by my canceled plans. Probably. Because under normal circumstances, the thunderstorms alone would make me absolutely thrilled.
Anyway, Elsa Bross. My creative writing teacher from eighth and ninth grade. Eighth grade went well. Ninth grade did not. I won't go into details, but we had an issue. A big one. One that sent me to the principal and got me in moderate trouble. I fucking hate this woman with every fiber of my being. I had two loves at that point in my life. One was writing and she fucking stole it from me.
Because of this woman I did not write during my high school career. At all. I didn't even do writing homework. Fuck her.
I googled her name and found her on Facebook. She has two kids now, lives in Montevideo. Fuck I just want to punch her. Four years later and I still want to cause her bodily harm.
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