Yellow

Lehi Jr. High school has little room for imagination. It feels like a prison sometimes. There are no colors, it is just a brown brick wall. There are two places in the school that give me room to stretch my mind. The school auditorium for obvious reasons, and then there is the lunchroom. You may not understand this one as much. The lunchroom is still a brick wall with boring brown tables, but my friends are not boring, and they are there. It is in the lunchroom I spend thirty minutes of my day picking at who knows what that the school calls food. The food is obviously not what makes the room so great, it is how dorky my friends are. We do make fools of ourselves, but the beautiful thing is we don't care. Therefore, no one else does. We laugh about things like carrots in ranch that "was not stored at the correct temperature." We make the funniest joke about passing out, and somehow relate it to the ranch. We burst out laughing in the middle of history because we are still thinking about the ranch. We pour water on a kid who fell asleep in history and it reminds us of this joke from three days ago. Today however, we ran around punching each other because of this lovely little game called "yellow." We went to history once again, laughing, even though our arms no longer had feeling in them. The lunchroom is great. Yet once the bell rings, we are thrown back into a brick wall cell, and all room for imagination is gone once again.