Updates

To record my progress. I have felt much better since they put me on painkillers for the tissue damage in my neck. : ) It is depressing to think about my new levels of hypocrisy in accepting unnecessary medications. The coloring of my eye brings back very distinct memories of Toby's make-up in 8th grade as "Lola."

Not My Most Beautiful Moment...

I am indulging in a small pity party at the moment, so bear with me.

Today I was in a wreck on my bike. I was speeding down the bridge over the highway on Grand Blvd. (without a helmet) and I believe I hit a trash can, but I am not entirely sure. The only things I remember are: having about 5 concerned strangers towering over me while I struggle to remain conscious. They kept asking me if I could move, and, for a few minutes, my arms would not budge. I remember piling into a stranger's car (an example of my impaired judgement), but getting ahold of my mother in time to prevent this. I remember feeling the back of my head and thinking there was a dent in it. And this is the extent of my memory concerning the next hour.

I could not move my arms for a couple minutes because my body was in shock and the "dent" in the back of my head was, in fact, the decline of my head's surface away from a bloody knot the size of a baseball. I have a severe concussion and I may have internal bleeding in my skull. Both of my collarbones and my jaw feel broken, but they are apparently just traumatized from the "jolt." I also have whiplash.

This is really just my way of notifying my friends of what happened, since I will out of touch for the rest of the break. You guys are the only ones who read my blog, anyways.

Defining this Phase

This is an exercise in self-confidence.

It is about carrying myself better
ridding myself of vanity
and becoming strong.

This is not about you.
This is not about women.
This is not about masculinity.

This is about self-confidence.

This is a hasty evening rant that I don't have time to revise, so enjoy....?

I begin my day in the usual fashion, an undignified process of meandering into consciousness through first hour. While trudging to my locker, I study the plastic floor tiles and the yellow florescent lights reflecting off of them. I look up to see Nathan surprisingly near. The sight of him kicks me fully into reality. His hair is unkempt and stringing across his face. His left eye is swollen and sickly blue-grey, dwarfing his narrow face. There is a fat, dark hole beneath his lip with hasty black stitches pulling it together.
I do not know how to respond to him, so I stand idly before him, shock bearing sturdily down on my ribcage. His expression is physically painful to behold, his eyes, which used to be excitingly bright blue, are layered thick with stoic defeat. "What happened to you?" I finally whispered. "Oh, uhhh.. w'll I passed out at the top of a staircase... they told me my blood sugar was too low... uhh..."
I used to really like him. He used to be creative and bright and clever and fun. He used to be surprisingly strong and good-natured. He used to be beautiful and his interest in "pot" colored it with that strange coolness that reeled me in. Now he is wasted and I ache for him so, so much. He is ruined and lifeless. He has been beaten.
I keep hoping they will send him to military school. I am hopeful that, once there, they would confiscate his precious weed and beat the shit out of him. They would turn him into the person he wanted to be. In a way, they would set him free. This is my hope because, without the prospect of military school, I honestly cannot see a way out for him. He is being drowned and I am watching it happen.