I hate my job. All I do is destroy things - words, hopes, dreams. I used to love life. Watching people make mistakes,  I always felt like I was their second chance, their saving grace. I could help them forget the past, eradicate their errs; sometimes even move on having learned something.  But now, now I think I cause more anxiety than joy. The other day Mr. Thompson asked a student to work out a problem on the board, but they wanted to know if they were right first. No one likes to slip up but they dont realize my purpose is to erase those slip ups. Now days I only get to erase things that are right.  I think the world would be a better place if all the right things were permanent.  I think the world would be a better place if I could create...