Please read this how it’s intended—in a British accent

A photo of a somewhat repetitive view in my life, featuring the grass I was looking at throughout this article.

I find myself, fairly often, staring at inanimate objects, plants, or animals and pondering what it would be like to morph into them. I’m staring at grass outside of the library right now, and I’m wondering if they would accept me as a blade just like them. I also consider the level of fulfillment I would feel as a blade of grass; there must be more to the role than what meets the human eye. 

It would be so much more interesting to be a blade of grass.

When I’m sitting in math class, and I can’t see any grass at all, I imagine someone rushing through the doors of the classroom, calling for me to assist them with a monumental task. The twist? I’ve never seen them before in my life. Suddenly, I have to make the decision of whether or not to trust them. 

I’m hardly passing Pre-Calc.

My trouble is, I really only have two challenging classes; more difficult schoolwork can feel so much more excruciating to get through when sandwiched between singing and watering plants. In my English class, I combat the drag of the occasional homework by reading assigned excerpts in British accents—out loud and dramatically. Classic literature feels much less excruciating as a Brit. 

Any piece of writing is much more enjoyable when pretending to have a British accent. 

My mornings are made much more interesting because my friend is a liar. I admire him for it. He’s told me on multiple occasions that he enjoys telling harmless lies. When I ask him what he’s had for breakfast or other trivial questions such as that, it’s reassuring that I will never know if he’s being honest or not. 

It’s so refreshing to have some dishonesty in my life. 

I realized almost too late that life doesn’t have to be so boring, nor so serious. Even in scenarios where it seems I have little control over how much I’m enjoying something, I remind myself of all the little games I’ve used to improve situations in my past. Or, I ask people what they’ve had for breakfast and hope they’re lying. 

However mundane and repetitive my math class, English homework, or early mornings seem to be, I do acknowledge that the repercussions of not putting any effort into these aspects of my life would be far more unpleasant. So, I appreciate the pieces of my day-to-day that are actually quite interesting and do what I can for the rest. 

Despite the fact that I can’t control the impressive amount of homework that brought me to the library I’m sitting in today, I know I’m able to bare it by staring out the window and pretending to be a blade of grass.