Of the English staffroom and crying.

I spent half of school standing outside class, catching the breeze. Man, was it hot today. Also, I had made up at least ten excuses to make a visit to the staffroom, the sweet airconditioned staffroom.

The teachers in the English staffroom kicked me out with a bribery of a biscuit after standing under their airconditioner for at least ten minutes. Strangely enough, I accepted. I guess I didn't want them to be against me. After all, they were the ones I had to turn to if our discipline master ever did confiscate my guitar. Support of the English staff. Pretty reassuring.

Enough of all the aircon talk. Now have you ever wondered why people cry and then won't tell you what they're crying about? It's pretty ridiculous, I think, because obviously when you cry it's kind of like this plea for help and attention. So if they don't tell what the problem is then nobody would be able to help them and they would end up making their friends feel bad. Unless their friend is me. Somehow I don't find much sympathy for people who cry. *My mum thinks I have this mental problem concerning pity. It just doesn't come to me, you know.*

Crying people, frankly, when they cry, scare me. I just don't know what to do. I have a choice of either comforting them, just standing there and blankly staring at them, or leaving them alone. Mostly I choose the second option unless I have some way of clogging up the tears. And rest assured, I'm no good at that.