disunderstandable

Filled with cigarette smoke, cars on empty tanks, and little girls with lice, my day was ultimately uneventful. If I contract that rash she has down there, I swear I'll kill myself and it would be a nice excuse to do it. They're a stubborn family, but can I blame them? She's the toughest girl I know and she reminds me of myself when I was trailing after Belle. Johnny Cash assembled a victory for my tears around noon and I almost fought a middle school teacher. In my defense, her attitude really was whack. There's this part of me that was exhausted but feeling edgy and anxious when I got home and sure enough, Edgewater called and I hate them even more, if that's possible. Their rules are unclear and procedures obscure, this will surely be the worst year of my life but I can't admit it. Honestly, I had loads of fun today but I could not enjoy it. I have nothing here and I want to go home. Home, Home. The Home I belong in.

I'm leaving this kidney stone alone and twisting this ankle to crawl an adventurous escape, full of daring and chivalry. My shins are purple from bruises and blows, while my arms have more holes than Camp Green Lake. I've avoided even seeing him since Thursday and I've pretty much succeeded, whether that's good or bad. My math class changed to never see his face and if I regret it, too late anyways so deal, like everything else in my life.

Except one thing. I am the prodigal daughter. I am the one who took the bread and asked for more, or laughed as they roasted my side, and I'm ready to take what's mine. Bishop Moore is in my grasp, trickling through the spaces between my fingers as Mommy Barnash asks if Lindsey's happy. She's not and if she were here, my life would be serene. I could handle life ten times more if we could reunite and forget the losers in our lives.

Live in Orlando, there's a show for poverty and breast cancer, whatever, to raise awareness, or anything else subjective. I was loved the same and watched Hannah Montana with infected children all morning, with plans to re-attend the establishment of so-called learning. This is why my life is to a point where death is simply inviting.

The wind was blowing my nostrils closed and my exhaled smoke all wiry through the car with children in it. Know better than to open your mouth around adults you cant comprehend because their accents are off and opinions are insecure. I did not miss anyone today. I missed myself. I got eagle eyes following my every step and if I trip it's over, back to basics, and going home, though I heard from Bon Jovi that it's easier when you comply. I can't go home. I say I cant go back. And I don't care where you've been, buddy, but quit bragging how awesome your hometown is and try to actually produce something real for once. Though i bought your song on itunes if only to die with it's falling chords.

I have sweat to emit and curly hair to knot and check for lice, so I am an ostrich with the head in the sand, etc.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Bishop Moore,

I wore your colors proudly. I smiled with loyalty, defended your constant evasiveness, and kept myself delighted with your array of activity cocaine. I got high off your simple pleasures like gourmet food from Aramark, Lockers inside a classroom with an insightful teacher, and lights on at every corner. Bishop Moore Catholic High School is not a dark place, that's for damn sure, but my eyes are finally adjusting to the quality of light in Edgewater, so I'm not sure it's worth coming home to you. This picture is the only one I have as proof that I once wore a uniform---and you can't even see the skirt. Well enough, because it was too short either way, but the point is that I could not stand you. To some degree, The feeling has not abated, but only calmed down a tiny bit. I'm not over it, and I pledge my revenge, but I can be your friend and remain civil. You can't do the same. This time--it's your fault.

As Always,
Mariah.