Blank Doll.

You know, of course, that I came from a neighbourhood school. In the four years that I have been there, I have come to know wonderful friends without the artifice of glamour, teachers whose sincerity and simple hopes for us was often as touching as it was discouraging and the little things in life that made contentment such a pleasure.

But I have also known the worst wretches that one does not see beyond the walls of proper Society, the most ill breed of curs whose base Cunning is as much a affront to good sense as our Intelligence is a balm.

I have befriended despicable people who took my amity for naught, who stifled what virtues I might have possessed in their own cesspit of mediocrity. It is just as well that we parted ways and their place in the scheme of things looms far away from mine.

Now my sister faces the same problem. I will not see her embroiled in the petty doings of the uncouth clique with which she surrounds herself. I will not have her startling intelligence ruined by the absurd ignorance of people who purport to be her best friend when what they do is break her heart.

Perhaps I do inform her sensibilities with my own prejudices, but it is fitting that that which does not befit her brother should not be worthy of her attention as well.

The niggling, incorrigibly narrow-minded, brutally savage working class mentality that some people cling so fervently to stirs such revulsion in me that I have no words to describe it.

C'est tout.