Dear School

Dear Chemistry,

I hate you. A lot. I've always thought science was modern magic, but guess what? I was wrong. You are not worthy of Hogwarts. Not at all.

This is not you.

I like the teacher, but I just can't like you. Please go die. Painfully. And possibly with a loud BANG.
I really, really despise you,
Sam

Dear World History,

Did you know that you have seen a LOT? I mean, dang. Plague, war, shmutty aristocratic games, more war, porcelain, Monguls, more war, and probably some really hot dudes? You have had a heck of a run. Please, keep running. I'm enjoying you, even if your tests are HARD.

You keep my ego alive,

Sam

Dear Math,
I don't like you either. I thought equations were for me, but I was wrong. I can't remember you all. My brain is too full of information for World History and Hogwarts Trivia Games to keep track of every faucet. So shoo. Fly away. I don't understand why I took Honors. I was young and optimistic then. Now I know better. I wish you loved me. But you don't.
This is me, breaking up with you before you break up with me,
Sam

Dear English,
I'm going to collapse in your arms and scream THANK YOU to the Great Purple Platypus. You are getting me through the day. I don't care that you are making me read about Pilgrims. We should be on Salem Witches soon, and I like that. But mostly, I like you. You are pretty and have good teeth. That's important to me.
Let's get married,
Sam

Dear Debate,
You make me bipolar. That's really all there is to it. One minute I'm all YAY I FEEL SMART and the next I am quivering in my NEW AWESOME LACEY SHOES and then having to go hug someone to regain my self confidence. It really doesn't matter if they want to be hugged. It just happens. You make me talk all pretty, though, so--
Love,
Sam

Dear Spanish/Government/Lunch,
Eh. I like you all in different way. You don't particularly stress me out. I am not fond of conjugating you or memorizing your faucets and dang, one of you is way caloric, but you don't really bother me.
Keep it up,
Sam

Dear Alarm Clock,
I don't care that you try and be cute by waking me up with Bon Jovi or Adam Lambert. I don't care that you have a snooze button. You are evil. I really, really dislike you.
I'm not even signing my name. You don't deserve it.


Dear Reader,
Are you still there?
...
Really?
Seriously? -blinks- After that? You aren't GONE?
I kind of love you.
-hands you cookie-

Adoringly,
Sam