Bear with it, Grit my teeth

"...EXCUSE ME!"

Bear with it. Grit my teeth. I know, I can be rather blur at times, but there's reason for that. I was confused, slightly infuriated, frustrated, and my head was throbbing with flashes of images that was determined to wreck my nerves. So am I not free to work things out with my mind as I stare into space, oblivious to my surroundings, oblivious to any calls?

I heard them snigger behind me as my hand grabbed the paper from them. Around me, my friends ask me why I was in another world when I should be in tuition class.

To enter my mind.

"Your hair is in a mess. How funny."

Smiled at that. It was out of a rush this morning, I said, struggling to not picture myself as Meg Hunter.

"What's with the same hairstyle? You should change it, you know."

Giggled at that. That thought once asked myself that question. After SPM, my lips uttered.

"Prom is what turns a girl into a woman."

Shrugged at that. She means that I have to go against current. Flick makeup, do something my hair, buy shoes, wear a dress!! Oh boy, not that I'm the kind of girl who usually dolls up.

Kick. Great. I've sat myself in front of a chair kicker. Out of luck. Yes, just my luck. Even as I shifted my chair a little to send a message. I guessed he did get the message, but could not be bothered.

Bear with it. Grit my teeth.

"We'll buy a dress tomorrow, ya?"

Smiled at that. No, let's just scout around. Isn't it a little too early to think about that?