Thou art my fountain of misery!
From thee I writhe and groan in mental agony
Thy outlines haunt me in my darkest dreams
I moan in despair at your ShortHand.
Oh ShortHand!
Tis two months since I have known thy countenance.
Yet I grapple with recognition of the barest of details.
Thy goddesses Sue and Sara have consoled me:
"It will be ok. Practice makes perfect."
Their reassurances soothe me like a sweet lullaby.
Oh ShortHand!
Achilles Heel of my academia!
Foundation of all my stress!
Causing me journalistic turbulence of a great magnitude!
My river of misery!
A sea of disenchantment!
"The only thing to fear is fear itself" (Roosevelt)
I shall attack you with the fervour of a famished lion
Devouring all your outlines with the hunger of a pack of lionesses
You shall not beat me!
I shall trash you fervently with the spirit of a Roman soldier!
ShortHand! I will conquer thee!
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