My friends, I am dying.
I am dying not of any injury, yet I ache and whimper in pain.
I am dying not of old age, yet everyday I grow more weary.
I am dying not of hunger, yet I have no energy to go on.
I am dying not of any disease, yet I am being consumed from the inside out.
I am dying not of anything of this world. It drifts in and out of reality. It follows no rules, no guidelines. It is merciless, unforgiving, dark and, above all, evil.
My friends, I am dying because of my school bag.
It sits there, next to my desk even as I’m writing this. Its navy blue form slumped on the floor like melted cheese. Like the cheese, it is sticky: I can’t get rid of it. It lies there, biding its time. It’s in no hurry, it will wait…
You may ask: “Why your school bag? Is it not merely a harmless object?”
I tell thee not.
On the outside, it is plain, unattractive, boring and not even worth a second glance. But on the inside, it holds untold horrors the world should never see.
Inside lies pain, stress, guilt, depression and sadness. Yes, the bag holds the very essence of evil: homework.
Homework is what lies in the school bag. It is forever there, waiting for you to succumb to its will. You can try to brave it out and battle it like the sea does with the shore. But it is in vain. If you manage to slay even one section of it, another three will spring up to take its place. You cannot ignore it. It will hunt you down and devour you like a fat kid looking for chocolate.
The bag knows its power. It enjoys watching you squirm. It will wait until you think it is safe and then slam seven assignments onto your lap. It loves seeing you cringe in horror at another sleepless night – it itself needs not sleep. It is always there, watching you.
But the bag has more up its devious straps. Apart from the mental anguish, it loves inflicting physical stress. The bag has no problem filling itself up with books, paper and large stone weights (called calculators) in order to amplify your misery. Mangled spines, broken legs and deformed shoulders are a sure sign of school bag activity. It is not uncommon to see children being crushed by these bags, so full, they weigh about the same as the island of Madagascar.
My friends, we are dying. This sort of mental and physical torture should not happen, but it does.
There is nothing we can do to avoid the inevitable death by school bag. However, we can still put up a fight
We can play their game. We can resist their torturous actions. Do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you defeated. Remember this: your dignity cannot be lost unless you give it up.
Already I feel the pull of the school bag. It is calling my name. I must answer its call, but I will do so in such a way as to make them think twice about challenging me. They will not break me.
My friends, if we cannot win, then at least we can do this:
Die with honour
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