Relapse

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by overconfidence and lofty ambitions, inflated to bursting by parents and teachers who constantly told them they could do it, they could achieve it, they could be whoever they wanted to be.
I saw potential flapping in the wind; a rudderless ship approaching a storm, uninformed sailors quaffing mothers' milk as the horizontal becomes vertical and all the king's horses and all the king's men join Humpty in dull, blue pieces of desperation and depression.
I saw learning and words turn into education and numbers, a drooling mass of nonsense formulated to appease the stupid, as if the biggest indicator of future success comes down to the point value ascribed to the correct recognition of an elative or, use of, comma.

I love learning, I hate schools.

I saw two overly sexualised young boys fight for their right to mate, passionately swinging at each other as dolled-up harpies watch suggestively, considering any win a win for their responsibility to carry the seeds of the drunken bag of billowing testosterone.