Personal Narrative-Inducing School Work

A faded gray ceiling, pale jade walls, and in the center, a powerful desk that has stood the test of time. Each step I take quakes, conflicted and confused. Occasionally, a salty tear drips onto my glasses. I dread the moment I reach the desk, already feeling the burden of the laborious task ahead of me.
Rainy days discard all of my intentions to be productive. Their depressing atmosphere, in addition to the sleep-inducing school work, causes my exhaustion levels to rise abnormally. The sky and the trees are painted with different shades of gray and reflect the sadness in the air. On some of these days, I go to the school in the center of the gray room. It teaches me skills I will need to use in the future, and it also holds the key that unlocks