Kinda ironic I write poems and find myself writing about how much I hate English. I don't want to read Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde again or analyse a play! No matter how interesting. The themes are the the themes and the characters the story tellers but to me it's just words No link in my head. Every sentence is read. Then the next, makes no sense. It all seems out of context but no one realises I don't know what the **** the teacher goes on and on about, it goes over my head. I can't explain my ideas because I can't make them myself and I can't understand where anyone else's are from. So I lead my self on a tangent, that could go on and on repeating itself that could go on and on repeating itself that could go on and on repeating itself but will never come back to the beginning. Writing aimlessly but no one seems to see; it's all nonsense to me. Kinda ironic.
As weird as it sounds English is my worst subject at school.