I don't know what otherwise pretty girls see in the constant application of a substance that makes their mouth shiny. In the spirit of conformity, perhaps. Ugh. I see it as far worse than layered, straightened hair. The latter is a fad. Lipgloss is eternal.
Anyway, how did I do at provincials? Well, let me put it very bluntly.
Dead last.
How do you spell désastre?
I knew I was bad at debating, but I didn't know I was that bad. I still don't think I am. I'm not entirely sure how that cute grade seven from Herzliah who used up a minute and a half out of the five he had to speak and talked into his tie managed to pull off a better score than me.
So ends my love affair with debating. We really had something going at the beginning, but I don't think either of us realized, at the time, what we were getting into. Lately, we've only been continuing in the false hope of regaining what we had, but it's time we separated. Now we can both go back to the people and things we love.
Something about blue eyes.
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