I sit on the swings, kick off my dirtied sneakers, admire my Pepto-Bismol-pink socks, look to the sky, and theorize thus-
God owns a startling number of balloons.
I remember things. I close my eyes,...
These past few months, I’ve been impatiently counting down the days I have left in this school. With each passing day, I grow more tired of the monotonous drone of classes;...