The Bloody SAT cd

These kids and their tails, like monkeys on the branch, forcing holes in the windows from chairs and desks. His arm was bleeding, but there was fabric available and I was going to dye it anyways, so at least I saved money on red paint. I don't want to see your face anymore, but the swirls on my T-shirt resemble you and all the fucked up shit you did. It's like the mighty have not only fallen, but broken a few bones and been humiliated on the way down. You created this tension, but I'm glad for it. It gives me something to cut with this boy scout knife I found at a garage sale at no charge because I sipped it in my pocket before the old man knew it. "Sneaky is getting thievery past the elderly."

Rachel. Her name is Rachel and she's a beautiful half Asian, quarter white, and quarter Spanish baby. I think she's almost, what, four months old. Her mother was an inspiration for me in Law and I once bought weed from her dad before selling it back to him and tonight he settled the debt by purchasing cigarettes for me. I would've gone to the game, but the lake called, and I can't hang up on a friend that close, not when Denny's is open and My invitation got lost in the mail, apparently. This isn't a life I dream of, but something I can write for, I suppose.

Mikael is a rockstar. Playing his passion and throwing his emotion into lyrics and words in conversations we have while driving. When we agree, it's harmony, and I feel as though finally I am understood. But if things go bad, and I start to feel uncomfortable, I'm brought back to bus rides upfront and kissing while on the phone with my real boyfriend because I was just using him to get close to Belle, Literally.

There's baggage to fill a 747 transcontinental flight with this girl and this band, and this future, and there's no one I know who's willing to carry it in the long term. Not even Mikael, or Chris. And maybe it's a girl who can handle it better, but not Anna. She's too young.

She's small and young, but mature and absolutely astonishing to me in every way she does or doesn't do her purpose in life, but she's still 16 and I feel like a little kid, begging for her attentions.

And when there's werewolves and vampires spinning in your head, with football games and old school rivalries fueling the pain, nothing can be done and blankly you will stare into your computer screen with the music from the day that made you rethink your life and realize that you are dead.

Dear Bishop Moore,

I haven't written in a few entries because I believed we might be seeing each other soon. I was wrong. And I'm never writing to you again.

As Never,
Mariah.