XeNiTh NO2Se

Here's my side of the story. Let the jury hear it and be inspired, let the judge hear it and be moved. I have no intentions of truly justifying what I've done to a society so nescient.

Of course, it was a fervent, carnal instinct that started shortly after my first few assignments of the year had been returned to me credit-lacking. I saw no reason for this subject to be worth so much. I wanted to be a writer. That had nothing to do with chemistry. I didn't care what my ink was composed of, or what elements it took to make up my paper. These Satanic tests had no point either. If you truly wish to know what I had and had not learned, give me a list and I will enlighten you, and then we will work. A grade-devouring conspiracy. Louche inquirers, those chemists.

Carrying on, it was the day that I received three papers back, all of them barely transgressing 50% correctness, that I felt this strange new feeling boil to the surface of my heart. Something romantic and adamant. It made all aspects of my physique droop as if weighed down by tons of depression. As if I possessed knowledge of some significant, sorry endeavor that must be sought through at all costs.

I glared at the infected woman all through class. My eyes tried with all their might to burn through the shallow dunes of her soul. She rarely laughed or joshed. Any time that she did, it was evidently forced. Her eyes were tired (of being kind most likely) full of cold, concentrated steel. I hated her. My teeth would grit whenever she asked if all was comprehended, walked across my path (no doubt wafting bad luck), or continued to confuse me all the further with her intricate explanations when I voiced an inquiry.

I wanted to do something. Not the sort of 'something' activity that swiped away boredom or made one forget a past miserable incident. That sort of something that made another cease to exist. A beautiful something that would make your breath run a little more fluidly, lower your blood pressure, appease your psyche.