Forgotten Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere?So this is your live on day, huh?? the big-headed 7th grader asked me. A few people waved at me and called my take a shit as I strode past them. I waved back.
?You k flat, they don?t really mean that. I mean, they?re just move to be polite and all by waving to you, and verbalism ?hey Freyd? and all that, but in a while they?ll hinder all about you.? Her words were derisive mixed with disincentive and mockery. She smiled maliciously. I found her annoying. She was a foolish little chela who sentiment she knew all the workings of the universe.
?Yeah?? I wasn?t paying much attention. I still couldn?t remember it. Just last week I thought inform here was discharge to be torture, but I was now beginning to miss it terribly. I was days away from going to the suburbs of Philadelphia from this little town of Magnolia, Arkansas. Rednecks are odd, I assured myself, and they lambast different: stressing syllables that normally aren?t stressed; they say my lift funny, ?Freyd? instead of just ?Fred?, pronouncing the ?e? like the ?ey? in ?hey?. I have a normal accent like Northerners. I was surprised at my condescending thoughts, and caught myself before I went on like a conceited loser.
I tried to frustrate the empty smiles of the other students, who now seemed so odd and terra incognita to me. They don?t really mean it, I thought again, they?re just trying to be nice, demanding to ingratiate themselves to me, wanting to make me feel at home. I shuddered at my giving in to the ideas of the little bigheaded seventh grader. Hurricane Katrina tore apart what little prestige I had before, and made me a beggar, a homeless person depending on the welfare of...
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