Collision de Passion

It's like the putrid smell of the over-polluted city sewer that drifts far from its boundaries to invade innocent nostrils. They make a helpless bystander such as myself cringe from their pressure. Unfortunately, the only road to freedom is through the drifting smells from hell. They tug the invisible strings of my heart, evoking an inconceivable feeling that spreads through my entity. They are the catalysts that lead to tidal waves of dismissal, rejection, but most of all, irritation.

Perhaps the stress has dillusioned me. I blew. For the very first time in my entire tuition stint, I told them to shut up. Which, of course, were blatantly ignored. How do you survive in an environment of 3 or 4 students per class where your so-called inhabitants speak a language alien to you?

I'm becoming like Keith. Which is Bleeeeh to the extreme. But why is HE improving where I'm falling? Unfair, totally unjustified.

I hate being a banana, I need my KYC babes back. Badly.