Boredom

I sat there at the ACT Camp, listening to the English teacher talk on about concepts, most of which had already discussed in the lecture. I asked a few questions and gave a few answers and listened to the feedback wholeheartedly, but we had just eaten and

gosh dang I was sleepy.

I kicked my shoe off. Put it back on. Repeated.

I glanced quickly down the row of desks to see if any other kindred soul felt my struggle. No one looked back, so I looked up. It was a side room with a high ceiling. The only pieces of furniture were the flat screen tv, laptop, and 3 rows of unoccupied desks behind us. I looked down. The carpet was a dark bluish gray. I interlaced my fingers behind my head and tried to stay awake. Succumbing to my habit of nose-picking, I flicked a booger towards the door where it would have a better chance of being vacuumed.

I cracked one of my knuckles.

The sound bounced off the ceiling and sides of the room very gratifyingly. I was suddenly seized by an irresistible urge to pop every joint in my body because I knew that I would like the sound it made when it echoed back.

I did.

When I ran out of poppable joints I took a deep breath and became one with my chair.

Listen closely, me, I might miss something important.

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