Journal Entry #2 - First Person Autobiography

I always wondered why my high school yearbook was only worth one glance. I'd skim through the captions and stories of winning sports teams, the supposedly inspiration student of the year, and mediocre statements of fellow classmates. Bland and low brow, all these words wasted all this space in the so-called book of memories. Yet, it was I who was not chosen for the position of copy editor. After all the creative and smirk-provoking descriptions I bestowed last year's book. What about the captions I worked so hard on, making sure no adjective or adverb was ever used twice? What about the headlines I'd used comparing the men's water polo and orchestra page to well-known songs of the year? Someone had been bribed; there was just no other way I shouldn't have been the first choice for the job. Even Jessica, a fellow writer I'd concocted entire stories and completely clever captions, was named one of the editors. To make this foolishness worse, I was offered a simple job as the newspaper editor. Newspaper? The junk that nobody read in my high school was not about to be part of my resume. In addition, my focus would be lost to the Doldrums, with the knowledge my beloved Christopher would be in the same room as me. Distraught and feeling cheated, I put the keyboard aside, and all those fantastically colorful words went along. If I couldn't be editor and share my passion with the droll of the earth, a free period was my revenge.