FUCK YOU.

I use it alot here and its starting to lose its meaning, but I mean it.

FUCK YOU.

Here's the story:
My sketchbook is probably one of the most personal things to me. Like a journal, only with pictures. Anyway, our new student teacher, Mr. H is our teacher's scrawny little slave. Whatever Ms. Chapor tells him to do, he'll do it. And while we were in our groups, Mr. H has the nerve to pick up MY personal, dear sketchbook and LOOK THROUGH IT. And then he stops along a page of vent art. Yes it had swears in it, and this was the conversation we had:
Mr.H: "Emily, what is this?"

Me: "One of my pictures, why?"

Mr.H:"This really isn't approporiate for class."

Me: "Well I don't see the problem. Its inside so who's going to see it?"

Mr. H: "I don't think this language is appropriate for a Catholic School."

Me: "Yeah, but its my sketchbook, I paid for it."

Mr. H: "That's not the point. You shouldn't be writing this in school."

And he takes it away from me until he gives it back!
If it was Ms. Chapor that'd be one thing but a STUDENT TEACHER? Your leaving on Dec. 12 anyway! What the fuck do I care if you think its bad? Your gonna be gone soon! Do you really think that taking it away from me will stop me from writing profanity in my pictures? Do you really think its gonna stop me from being my sketchbook to school? You think its gonna make me angel and pure again? Uh, no. In fact the only think it'll teach me is that your a nosey prick who doesn't respect peoples' privacy; that's what it tought me!
And what gives you the right to look through it, secondly? If you asked for my permission, then whatever but without it you have no right to even go near it.

FUCK YOU MR. H, AND STOP GOING THROUGH MY THINGS.