and then I walked out.

Some days I value my education. Some days I don’t think I’ll make it through one more lecture. Yesterday was one of those days.

As a senior I stopped giving a fuck a while ago. This often makes class going difficult. There is one class that I’m taking this semester that I dread with every fiber of my being. It is repulsively dull and the professor is monotoned. This class is called Rhetorical Criticism and I have no idea what that means or what we are learning. I just know it’s required for my major and that I regrettably chose a seat in the front row.

Professor Brown sits in the front of the class. Sits. He is a rather short man with white skin and brown hair. The most distracting aspect of his appearance is that he is comically round. Not fat. Not overweight. Simply round. Round in the face, round in the belly. If he was a stick figure, he would have two tiny stick legs, a round middle, no neck, and a round little bowling ball head. Every day Prof. Brown has a cup from McDonalds. Every damn day I stare at the yellow loopy M and watch as it sweats beads slowly onto the desk top. Sometimes when the lecture is particularly boring, I create my own little make-believe races between the beads of liquid. I cheer them on silently in my mind. I fantasize that the whole class bursts into cheers and applause as bead #1 dramatically reaches the table first.

I’ve had a cold for a few weeks. Yesterday, out of nowhere, I began a coughing fit that could not be mended. My face turned red, I was insanely loud. I could feel eyes on me. I excused myself into the hallway where I coughed and gasped and attempted to calm myself by drinking from the water fountain. Nothing was working for me! I had spent nearly 5 minutes out in the hall when my man-crush, like the angel he is, came out to check on me.

Sadiq. This is the only name that is not changed in my blog because I simply wouldn’t know what to change it to. Sadiq is an international student from Bahrain. Bahrain is an island by Qatar. I googled that shit. He is the sweetest little Arab and I fucking love him. He has been in many classes with me and we have done group projects together like, three times. His accent makes me swoon! He is kind, sweet, and a little pudgy in the cheeks, making him irresistible! Last semester, Sadiq and I took a feminism class together. At the end of the semester he read a poem that he wrote aloud to the class. He wrote about how his perception of gender roles and rights have dramatically altered since coming to America to study. He wrote about how he use to wish his girlfriend back home in Bahrain would wear her Hijab, like his mother. He wrote about how now he loves her no matter what and that it is her decision whether or not to wear her hijab and that he respects her more than ever.

I literally cried tears. 

I told Sadiq I was ok and that I’d come back in soon. I slumped against the wall and slid all the way down until I was sitting on the cold hard floor. Why is today so hard? I put my head in my hands and took a deep breath. It’s just a class. It’s just a school. It’s just three more months. I’ll miss this when it’s over. Then I pulled myself up and re-entered the classroom.

I had barely sat my ass in the chair when the coughing fit began again. I fought it off, choking for a solid three awkward minutes. “Fuck it,” I thought frustrated. I could get the slides online after the class anyways. It’s fucking pointless and boring and I just can’t sit through this shit again today.

And that’s when I got up, gathered my shit, and I walked out of Rhetorical Criticisms.

It wasn’t a big deal, the prof. I’m sure understood I wasn’t feeling well. But it still was a heavenly feeling. Fuckkk this class.

I took a walk. I bought some cough drops. I bought a microwavable container of easy mac. I ate that delicious yummy shit, and I took a much needed heavenly break. It was far better than class any day.

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