Write a post about anything you’d like, but be sure to include this sentence somewhere in the final paragraph:
“He tried to hit me with a forklift!”
Photographers, artists, poets: show us a NON SEQUITUR.
So, I have been watching Baby One More Time (like again and again and again). I thought it reminded me of school. I scrolled down to see comments and found that I wasn’t the only person to think so.
The song reminds me of a simpler time. Now I hope that I’m a better person now than I was then, so I should be thankful for my painful experiences but fact remains that it was a simpler time and so, I kind of cherish the memory of those times.I remember being hyper. I remember thinking ridiculous, acting ridiculous and being ridiculous, but then again it was the same with everybody. I remember never completing my homework (you see, even as a kid I knew better than to care about trivial things like homework). I remember how every morning I felt so good. I remember how bad I was at sports. I remember participating in a race, and being so tired and so far behind the others, that I simply moved out of the tracks in search of better things to do than running at a fast pace towards nothing at all. I remember being bad at all kinds of things that required. . . . . . .presence of mind. I couldn’t even ride a merry-go-round. The few times, I tried, I fell off it, moving in a path tangential to my position on the circle
described that would have been described by me, had I continued to be on the merry-go-round. Later, in physics class, I got to know about the centripetal force, that my instincts didn’t tell me about. I remember how heroic I felt the first time I swung on a swing without falling. I remember how peaceful I felt while I was there. Maybe it was the place, maybe it was the people childhood. Then I was knocked back into the real world by the forklift of trials.
In response to: Daily Prompt: Non Sequitur