I'm about to breathe fire. I cannot take too much criticism at once, Neil. You should know that. I know that you will be very happy to help me with my writing career but sometimes you cross the line. Despite your position as my lecturer it doesn't permit you to bitch at my essays like they are pieces of garbage. They aren't complete mess by the way.
I feel like starting a revolution over my English Writing class. Perhaps I should gather my army right now.
I might be the little black sheep in your class, because I know they can perform more than better. Unlike me, the annoying pest that drag down the collective result, right??
I'm tired of asking "what should I do". It doesn't help anyway. The only solution you gave me was "try harder" and "this is wrong, that should not be like this" and "there are better ways".
When I attend your lecture, I feel like a little baby in a walker, so naive, so knowledge-less and so stupid. I could never be more embarrassed than sitting in your tutorial and you staring at me like a tycoon staring at a beggar. So helpless, so insignificant. Like a speck of dirt. My pride just flies out of the window without me knowing.
Your comment cannot be more ruthless and I cannot be more heartbroken reading those. I'm the bloody peasant, you're the charming prince.
You want me to see you so you can fix this? I think you should fix yourself first.
Sorry Neil. My heart was burning in flames and now its extra crispy. Care for some heart chips? It tastes bad though.
