I don't miss high school. At all.

I was chatting with a new friend about stuff when the topic of high school came up. He was going on and on about how much fun it was, and how much he missed those times, and how he still keeps in touch with his friends, and blah blah blah blahbity blah... I said to him, "I hated the kids in my high school. I wouldn't really care to ever see them again."

He said he felt bad for stirring bad feelings. I told him that he didn't JUST stir them up; I always have disdain for my high school years and classmates. I had friends back then. I actually like to call them "people that happen to be okay with talking to me." I don't keep in touch. The one person I actually do keep in touch with who went to my high school is actually someone who is not blood-related but our families know each other, and she has moved to NYC, so we are in constant touch. She is also Filipino.

I hated high school. Actually, to be honest, I hated 8th Grade through 12th Grade. You see, I had just moved from Nigeria to Syracuse, NY and many of the kids just did not want me around. I was the exotic kid with the funny accent who knew all the answers because the education he received in Africa was a year advanced than that in Central New York (yet they wanted to put me back a grade but my mother, an ex-teacher, insisted that they test my knowledge and even though I displayed a knowledge of 8th and 9th grade subjects, was still placed in 8th grade because I was not a native English speaker even though I aced all the grammar and reading tests they gave me).

Yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am resentful. Yes, I felt held back. Yes, I am over it. Yes, I have moved on. Yes, I still want nothing to do with most of the hicks in Liverpool, New York. Yes, I am done. Later.  ¶ 11:30 PM