Shortly after, the teacher entered the classroom, and thus, the session began.
I was still nervous, just less than before. I calmed down more easily if I tried, and my leg barely trembled.
As for the classes, as always, I didn't pay attention. Except maybe for math, I don't need to pay attention in the rest of the classes. In the end, studying at home the day before is enough for me.
Paying attention in class is like studying beforehand, so I prefer to distract myself so the time goes by faster.
Plus, it's fun to find something to do in such a dry environment, so to speak. Imagining a drama, or the best animation ever created, are things I won't be able to do in real life, but I can do it there.
It's all good and fun until you consider the effort required to do it.
If I could choose between coming to class or not, of course I wouldn't. What stops me is the future, which, although very uncertain, can be better if I study hard enough.
Even if I don't know what I'm going to be, I can prevent myself from ending up the way I don't want.
Most of the time, I lack the motivation to believe in this. There are days I struggle to get out of bed, and others I don't even get out at all. I miss classes, not because of illness, but because of an inability, an "unintentional" that is likely a type of major illness.
We cannot be anyone if we have no will.
The fifth class was the same as the previous one. Nothing interesting or important. Empty topics filled with empty questions.
What they're looking for in the education program is 10% learning, and 90% verification.
They test your suitability for life in the future, whether you can take on the necessary responsibility, whether you have the necessary courage, and the necessary motives.
They don't teach you how to live, they don't tell you anything about life. They don't tell you anything useful for the future, nor do they give you descriptions of what life is like. They just give you certain knowledge so you can cope in the future.
It is a hollow system in which teachers' enthusiasm is focused on the wrong things.
It's all well and good to be able to learn English, or to learn multiplication, but the further you go, the more you lose your learning, and the more you take meaningless tests.
What is teaching how to live anyway? Is it knowing how to look for a job, how to work in the first place, or how to calculate your household bills?
What is living? Seizing the moment?
And what does it mean to seize the moment? To live?
The sixth hour felt longer than it should have. It's so easy, yet so difficult, to ignore reality...
You can put off your problems, but they will eventually come. It's scary to think you'll never be able to avoid them. A problem avoided isn't a problem, but a setback.
I guess that's why I'm so bad at dealing with problems. Especially emotional ones.
I don't think I can console anyone. I don't know how to express myself in general, so I doubt I'd be able to do it at the right time. I have no tact for such things. I'm not direct or insensitive, but I don't know how to act.
In the middle of my last-minute solo monologue, I had to come back from my fog. The class was over.
I took a deep breath, then exhaled. The last stretch of class seemed much more enjoyable. I'd momentarily forgotten that I'd been nervous before.
The professor was quick to leave the classroom. He told us beforehand that he had a meeting, and that was why he was leaving early.
Another day, I'll have to talk to _¨*^?¿· and the rest, but for today, I've done enough. Being here has been enough.
I packed my things in my bag, stood up, and slung it over my shoulder.
"***"
Speaking of _¨*^?¿·, he was leaving alone, again. I'm not going to follow him.
"******* ******* ****"
The only thing that surprises me is that he did it so quickly.
"*****"
Well, whatever, for now, I should go too-
"I'm talking to you!"
A voice spoke up behind me. It felt very close. Even though I didn't know if it was speaking to me, I turned around.