I had my hand on my cheek, and drool was coming out of my mouth. Nothing about this class is great, and nothing about this class is exciting. Since my teacher dislikes creativity, I'm forced into an atmosphere that I do not like. I feel the walls closing in, and all I have is this one window, to escape I begin to stare. What I see isn't the football field where we won state championships, but it's another field. A field of rye but as I like to call it, it's a field of gold. My mood changes in an instant, swaying in the field makes me so alive. Smelling the fresh air, being alone where I can read all day, enjoying the sunset, camping out and playing the guitar around the fire, singing sweet melodies. This is heaven to me, and I clench onto what I have now, in my mind that is. Maybe one day it won't all be a dream drawn out in my head or just something that sounds good on paper.
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