Last night, I found myself going to the first day of 8th grade. But this was all wrong. I had already graduated from college, why was I in the 8th grade? I looked like an 8th grader, but my mind and memories were that of someone much older. I got to class, whispering fervently with my friend Ali that something had gone terribly wrong. I got to class and found my seat. The teacher was totally hot and I thought, well, at least I will know all the material, this should be easy. But then I remembered 8th graders are total assholes sometimes, and I raised my hand to be excused. But before I left, I asked the entire class if there were anyone trapped in an 8th grader body while the teacher was on the phone. Five people raised their hand. One girl announced, like me, that she was in her twenties and had no idea what was going on. Everyone else looked equally as confused. We left the classroom. Somehow we got to a large convention center, filled with 8th graders, but I soon realized none of them deep down really were! There was a group of seemingly 13 year olds who were actually grandparents. Then there was a group who inside, had only lived 6 years. They were the most confused, and I told everyone to look our for the younger crowd. How did this happen? I kept asking myself. I was given no answers. But for some reason I decided to take the one regret I had from 8th grade, not kissing Josh, and decided to kiss him. But then Steve Martin from Roxanne was there, and I was so curious on how you would kiss someone with that large of a nose, that I promised I would kiss him too. He looked really depressed at the bar. Where the bar came from, I never found out.
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