We are all perfectly adequate with what we do, perfectly regular, perfectly able, perfectly bored. What do you miss most about having school? Was it the idea that you’d see the same complement of people through the day and change your schedules, or was it getting through the toil of another sixty-day marking period, each day much the same and varying only by content and extra homework? Yeah. Me too.
Do you well remember how when J.F— declared that I was a perfectionist and my heart soared like that was some sort of super ability: it’s the very fact of being recognized and worthy of attention that makes you feel as though there is something remarkable about you that’s well worth notice? Me too.
I have random cuts and scrapes on my hand left from where I’ve been trying to make sure I’m doing things right by this new old bike; how you clean off dirt and make things perfectly fine, right as rain and ready for some minor action hero status, though perhaps the fit may be tigheter than is comfortable? No matter. Me. Too.