Rant?

So here is the rant i promised. Guess how smart i am. I knew i wouldn't be able to write an effective rant later on because I won't feel the hatred and annoyance. So i actually got out a paper in Houston's class and wrote my rant. Now I'm just transferring words from the paper to here. I'm actually in a neutral mood right now.

History is so annoying now. Guess why. Because this curtain dumbass who sits behind me can't keep his fucking hands and shit to himself. Why do you need to get my attention when I'm trying to do fucking work or something. What's worse is that you don't even have anything to say. Calling my name every 5 minutes isn't going to do you any good. You don't even need anything. You call my name repeatedly, i look back, and you just smile or something. What. The. Fuck. Are you aware you just wasted 5 seconds of my life just to see you do nothing but smile? Uh, i don't really care to see that. It's not like you're one of those boys who i just love to see smile. Not even close. Sometimes, its a poke, i look, then nothing. Sometimes, you touch my hair. I look. You just smile or act like it wasn't you. WOW. Then you do it again and again and again. You call my name, i go like "WHAT?!" with hella attitude and the teacher tells us to be quiet. Did you not hear the venom in my voice? You think i want to talk to him? No.

Oh, and you fail at making conversation. Sometimes, you just call my name, i look, you pause for a second then decide to ask how my morning was. This is my freaking second period. How do you think it was?! It just started! Sometimes, you'd ask "How are you?" Ha. Ha. Like you care. I'd say fine then go back to doing my shit. Then you would ask how yesterday was. WHAT. THE. FUCK. Why would you care?! My god! It probably disapoints you and i don't ask back. Truth is, i could care less. So i don't ask. When i want to talk to you, i will. If you have something to say to me, say it. If not, leave me alone.

Overall, stop touching me. Stop poking me. Stop making shadows on my desk to get my attention. Stop touching my hair. That one time when it was curled and you kept touching it saying you had a fetish for curly hair freaked me the fuck out. If you're gonna get my attention, make sure you have something important to say. I don't care that you're bored. It's not my responsibility to entertain you. Sometimes, i want to rip your head off.

That's why you think sometimes, i hate you and other times, I'm nice. It's because sometimes, i do hate you.

Alright. Buh bye.