That was an interesting day.

For the first time since Brandon, I could think of no words to touch the way I felt. There are still none, so the best I can do to explain is to tell you what happened.

When Maggie's voice rumbled through the piece of plastic in my hand, something in me dropped dead. Excuse the cliche, but my heart stopped beating. I can usually fight those obnoxious little balls of saltwater for a while, but not this time. It was coming with a will of its own, so I ran. Suddenly my life's ambition was to keep walking. I had to know if you were just gossiping, Maggie. Mr. Austin would either tell me truth or tell me he couldn't, but he wasn't going to lie.

I broke a couple of my own rules. First being letting the fear sink into me and take over, second freaking out in front of other people. I lost it. I don't have any reason to lose it more than the rest of you. It wasn't my right to make this my own crusade and pretend like I was alone. I tend to be self-righteous like that.

So the sunshine beaming on this little suburban breakdown I hosted in my room is this: I get to hear you again. It will take a long time for me to consider saying anything about it, but I'm just incandescent to hear you again. You didn't turn me away so, for that, I thank you. I know you haven't been completely destroyed. Mr. Ottman had me scared for a moment.

Bottom line to those who read this (since I know you care like me without the lack of self-control), he'll be alright.

My rope no longer exists

I know I shouldn’t be writing this. I can’t believe I’ve let you get to me but, since you have, I thought this worthy of more than a comment.

Thing number one: rearranging the words in a sentence to make it sound like decent writing is an ineffective method. Maybe you should start saying what you mean instead of trying to sound intelligent because it doesn’t work.

Thing number two: Is there anyone you can think of who is more amazing and deep than yourself. You are irrefutably arrogant. You spend your time complaining about your miserable teenage life and about how there are no people as smart as you. Poor thing. Everyone around you is a daft fool, right? You’re the genius. You’re the poet who people hate because they’re intimidated by your brilliance. They criticize you unjustly when they don’t even know you? Only one, maybe two people know who you really are? But you criticize every single one of those people when you have know idea who they are. And I hate you because I secretly know you’re too good for me, right? No. I hate you because you are blind, weak, and self-righteous.

Thing number three: You’re nothing special. You’re just more effected by the teen syndrome than most. (My life is terrible, the world doesn’t understand me, all my peers are idiots, I have a creative, unique mind that’s much better than all the others.) You are the essence of self-absorbed, pathetic American youth. You’re not above any of the high school bullshit, you’re just filling a niche. Every school had an emotionally damaged asshole like you.

Thing number four: Michael is so much better than you and he deserves Bess. You just can’t stand that, for once, the person you preyed upon saw you for what you are. Someone should warn your new tease.

So, I guess what I’m saying surmounts to this: fuck you. : )

For Maggie

Everyone has enough reasons to be happy, so be happy, you daft Americans!