I hate a lot of things. I hate a lot of people. I don’t think highly of people at all. I don’t think highly foreign vehicles. I have to say, in all my four years of high school, there is something I hate more than everything I have just mentioned. That would be my locker. The damn thing is the ugliest color you could imagine first off. It is not a red or black to match our school. It is a dull gray-beige color that resembles if it were to be chosen by anyone on earth; it would be chosen by a grandma or grandpa to match their ugly colored, ugly shaped car.

Mine personally has a black mark at the bottom. A couple scratches from the wear and tear of other students in the past and now myself, are marked on it. I would think that the bottom is the most banged up since I kick it almost everyday. See, my locker does not like me either, or more so it likes to play tricks on me. I never was good at opening locks in general, but this one seems to give me trouble every single time.

I pass people in the halls like someone passing people in a car because their wife is having a baby. Why? Because we have three minutes to get to our locker where we came from and go to another class. Bathroom breaks are included in this. Impossible right? Wrong. You learn to beat your locker like you have turrets and you learn to pee super fast or not pee at all. Anyway, my locker is impossible to open on the first try. IF you open it right away the first time, the next time you open it, it will take at least three times to open it.
I try to open it the first time. Failure. I kick and pound on it. Third or fourth, or fifth or even sixth time is the charm. It gives me so much trouble I can not stand it. I grab my books and plow people over to get to class. My locker is in the MST wing, so I am farther away and it takes me longer to get to class. The teachers in the MST wing do not care that I beat my locker uncontrollably. They see what my locker does and Mr. Essenberg has personally helped me day after day my freshman year and at the beginning of all my years in East Jordan high school. I think I might miss my locker when I leave this year. Then again… maybe not.