All the talking fools.

I think it’s six in the morning. I’m not so sure, but mother said when one hand goes up and the other goes down, it’s time for tea. I struggle a bit as a familiar figure tries to pull me out of bed. She says I’ve got to go to school. What is it? I think I’ve heard that word somewhere, but not even Cartoon Network can stir me out of this. I ask my mom what the time is. 10? I don’t really believe her.

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It’s my favorite side of the car, I get to see my dad’s face in the mirror that looks at me. And the funny thing is, so can dad. I watch as the world passes by, and I see people sleeping on the streets. I ask my mom if we can take them home (I’d like some company), but she says no, so I start looking out again. Suddenly, our car starts jumping up and down. I’m not very fond of it, so I ask my dad to get a new car. He says it’s got nothing to do with the car, it’s the road. I don’t really believe him.

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It’s a big white building and I see things running here and there. Suddenly, a bell rings and everybody rushes in. Normally, I would’ve asked a question about this, too, but then I’m too scared to go anywhere near those things. My mother says we have to go in and talk to the Teacher. I wonder how so many women can have the same name. ‘Teacher.’ Mother leaves me in a room with those things. She said she’ll be back soon. I don’t really believe her.

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It’s time to go to bed.
I now close my mind to world and enter my surreal self.
It does not ask; only answers.
It does not look; only observes.
It does not doubt; only believes.
It does not speak; only talks.
… Also, it’s got a better vocabulary.