Fay is Lame and I'm soaked to the bone from a hole in the ceiling, waiting for the winds to close school's doors. You can't see outside when the wind is this high and the rain just pours. Television melodrama; "you heard it here first." The sky turned orange, crying from the storm, and leaking on the thousand-dollar carpet I vacuum every Sunday; Drips and drops of water staining the white painted chandelier above. In the pot stationed underneath, it taps and splashes loudly over the news. Seems to be blue tarp time again, but nothing works better than plaster for greedy roofers re-shingling with stolen golden watches of mine.
Greatly sustained and motionless in a fire trap attic room. Through the bulletproof glass, that i swore by Sophomore year, of a dollhouse window, gandering the debris of leafy excess, ignited by a howling hail. There, the water flushes in, so I sleep downstairs, hearing mumbled updates in the living room through a wooden panel he punched his fist through that time she got drunk and they fought. Tomorrow at eight, the winds will be great and I might end up walking to school. The clouds up there are sure to fall as rain altitudes rise by the inches. Fay will leave us, but soon return again. Orlando is safe i guess. Surely safe to go to class on Monday and Thursday, when we all were drenched but not Tuesday and Friday, when the air was dry. Fuck it, it's in the past, and I've got summer assignments due next week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks ago, it wasn't like this. Two weeks ago it was tame. Shit it'll almost two months ago and that's sad as sad can get. I went back to hell this past monday and saw my life survive the impact of a twelve-ton Eagle that fell from the second story of the Science building. Tough times at Edgewater High, but really, when is it ever easy?
I want to buzz with the hornets. I admit that to myself now. They sting like hell, they don't play fair, and they sold my ass to administration for a get-out-of-jail-free card, but I miss them with all my heart. The zombies strut by all wearing Guy Harvey which doesn't make sense to me at all. I swear to god, I plan to go psycho if i hear the word "expression" again. I get "Why go back there" a lot, but they dont understand. Everything is the same. The only thing that changes is the special effects and the idea of everyone being equal when everyone is clearly not. Hornets need a reality Check. Let me give it a shot.
Dear Bishop Moore,
I hope your God can hear me and I hope he knows his Old Testament. Because that goddamn book you put all your stupud faith into reads that you should forgive your brother not seven, but seven-hundred and seventy-seven times. Tell that to your diocesan duties. And while you're at it, let them know that i'm giving them a negative rating online. They dont deserve the eight grand a year and certainly didnt ever earn the praise they receive. "Here at Bishop Moore, we focus on strenghtening your bond with God." Yes, I'm sure the future homesless graduates will agree that putting theology over academics was the smartest way to go. Clearly, your administration received the same sort of "education." You want to know how i got these scars? Oh it's simple. Mrs. Bonanno told my Aunt that i was snorting cocaine in history class. She didn't like that. Not. One. Bit. And Mrs. Connell demanded notecards that i never ever finished. Nor did i once turn in a completed notebook. Keep up now, you entitled little bastard, you fucking jezebel whore of the catholic institution, you god damn cow cooked in McDonald's by the valedictorian of 1973. I recall perfectly. I was sitting in my math class. I received an extra bruise to my ego when Mrs. Moore took my phone, shit I can't remember how to spell her name. Look what you're methods have done to me! Have you ever seen my left arm? it's got real scars. burn marks. Do you remember when Mrs. Gonzalez called me into guidance and asked me if I put out a joint on my arm? She asked me where my mother was, who I was living with, what I was doing with my life, and why I felt the insistent need to drive my teachers insane. Are you still curious or do you need it spelled out for you? i was born to get expelled and I was raised to fight the catholic church. I'm not sorry. I never will be. I'm lucky. I was saved from your indoctrination before I became the robot you expected. I spent every lunch period and free period in the Dean's office my Sophomore year and listened to the teachers bitch, endured filthy stares from disgruntled deans, and organized shelves of yearbooks no one gives a shit about anymore. I did nothing but live the only life I have, and I was exhiled. You know, there was a time when I prayed to God every single day? I was into it. I was also only eight years old but i completely bought into the whole "he's watching you, better watch out!" like God is Santa Claus or something (i believed in him, too, 'til some eighth grader punched me and said he was dead.) See, that's the thing about little kids. They'll swallow up anything you tell them; i couldn't help that i believed your bullshit stories, excuse me, "tall tales that are symbolic of what really happened"---I was in second grade coming from a public school! It would take me seven years and about three months to return. While you're reading this letter, dial up Mrs. Agnew over at St. Charles and thank her for turning me into the person I've become. I'll bet my sanity that she doesn;t remember the day she abandoned me. I sure as fuck do. I honor that day ever year and it's been almost four years. October 28, 2004? does that ring a bell to anyone but me? Didn't think so. Now, god forbid it was a religious holiday! If it ever slipped my mind, I'd be damned to hell, right? just like I always forget when Easter was. I couldn't tell you how long lent is and Mary-fucking-saw-me-eat-meat-on-those-damn-fridays-you-were-not-supposed-to. Try to tell me what to eat? FUCK YOU! fuck you're stripes, fuck you're football team, fuck you're honors system, Fuck your band leadership, Fuck you're suspensions, saturday schools, and detentions. I may not have graduated from your establishment, but I made it out alive just in time. I hope Fay trashed Loretta and Lake Fareview drowns you're science/religion building until it perishes for forever. I hope the New Education building crumples from the foundation and smashes the glass of those Senior year pictures you insist on nailing to the wall. The only building I wish would remain is the cafeteria, because that's the only part worth the school is the food. So thank-you, Aramark. i love you, always will, and to you, Bishop Moore, i say goodbye and plan on seeing me in the future. I swear right now, when I'm a wealthy lady I will have your school demolished and I will build my mansion upon it. Don't think you're safe, St. Charles, the church goes, too. Sorry, it's just business.
As always,
Mariah.
-Expelled from Bishop Moore March 11, 2008 and relocated to Edgewater High School where I will spend the rest of my high school career working against you. You'll regret the choice you made just like I regret mine every single second I breathe.
=]
"So so what?
I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And i don't need you
And guess what
I'm having more fun
And now that we're done
I'm gonna show you tonight
I'm alright, I'm just fine
And you're a tool
So so what?
I am a rockstar
I got my rock moves
And I don't want you tonight"
I want to buzz with the hornets. I admit that to myself now. They sting like hell, they don't play fair, and they sold my ass to administration for a get-out-of-jail-free card, but I miss them with all my heart. The zombies strut by all wearing Guy Harvey which doesn't make sense to me at all. I swear to god, I plan to go psycho if i hear the word "expression" again. I get "Why go back there" a lot, but they dont understand. Everything is the same. The only thing that changes is the special effects and the idea of everyone being equal when everyone is clearly not. Hornets need a reality Check. Let me give it a shot.
Dear Bishop Moore,
I hope your God can hear me and I hope he knows his Old Testament. Because that goddamn book you put all your stupud faith into reads that you should forgive your brother not seven, but seven-hundred and seventy-seven times. Tell that to your diocesan duties. And while you're at it, let them know that i'm giving them a negative rating online. They dont deserve the eight grand a year and certainly didnt ever earn the praise they receive. "Here at Bishop Moore, we focus on strenghtening your bond with God." Yes, I'm sure the future homesless graduates will agree that putting theology over academics was the smartest way to go. Clearly, your administration received the same sort of "education." You want to know how i got these scars? Oh it's simple. Mrs. Bonanno told my Aunt that i was snorting cocaine in history class. She didn't like that. Not. One. Bit. And Mrs. Connell demanded notecards that i never ever finished. Nor did i once turn in a completed notebook. Keep up now, you entitled little bastard, you fucking jezebel whore of the catholic institution, you god damn cow cooked in McDonald's by the valedictorian of 1973. I recall perfectly. I was sitting in my math class. I received an extra bruise to my ego when Mrs. Moore took my phone, shit I can't remember how to spell her name. Look what you're methods have done to me! Have you ever seen my left arm? it's got real scars. burn marks. Do you remember when Mrs. Gonzalez called me into guidance and asked me if I put out a joint on my arm? She asked me where my mother was, who I was living with, what I was doing with my life, and why I felt the insistent need to drive my teachers insane. Are you still curious or do you need it spelled out for you? i was born to get expelled and I was raised to fight the catholic church. I'm not sorry. I never will be. I'm lucky. I was saved from your indoctrination before I became the robot you expected. I spent every lunch period and free period in the Dean's office my Sophomore year and listened to the teachers bitch, endured filthy stares from disgruntled deans, and organized shelves of yearbooks no one gives a shit about anymore. I did nothing but live the only life I have, and I was exhiled. You know, there was a time when I prayed to God every single day? I was into it. I was also only eight years old but i completely bought into the whole "he's watching you, better watch out!" like God is Santa Claus or something (i believed in him, too, 'til some eighth grader punched me and said he was dead.) See, that's the thing about little kids. They'll swallow up anything you tell them; i couldn't help that i believed your bullshit stories, excuse me, "tall tales that are symbolic of what really happened"---I was in second grade coming from a public school! It would take me seven years and about three months to return. While you're reading this letter, dial up Mrs. Agnew over at St. Charles and thank her for turning me into the person I've become. I'll bet my sanity that she doesn;t remember the day she abandoned me. I sure as fuck do. I honor that day ever year and it's been almost four years. October 28, 2004? does that ring a bell to anyone but me? Didn't think so. Now, god forbid it was a religious holiday! If it ever slipped my mind, I'd be damned to hell, right? just like I always forget when Easter was. I couldn't tell you how long lent is and Mary-fucking-saw-me-eat-meat-on-those-damn-fridays-you-were-not-supposed-to. Try to tell me what to eat? FUCK YOU! fuck you're stripes, fuck you're football team, fuck you're honors system, Fuck your band leadership, Fuck you're suspensions, saturday schools, and detentions. I may not have graduated from your establishment, but I made it out alive just in time. I hope Fay trashed Loretta and Lake Fareview drowns you're science/religion building until it perishes for forever. I hope the New Education building crumples from the foundation and smashes the glass of those Senior year pictures you insist on nailing to the wall. The only building I wish would remain is the cafeteria, because that's the only part worth the school is the food. So thank-you, Aramark. i love you, always will, and to you, Bishop Moore, i say goodbye and plan on seeing me in the future. I swear right now, when I'm a wealthy lady I will have your school demolished and I will build my mansion upon it. Don't think you're safe, St. Charles, the church goes, too. Sorry, it's just business.
As always,
Mariah.
-Expelled from Bishop Moore March 11, 2008 and relocated to Edgewater High School where I will spend the rest of my high school career working against you. You'll regret the choice you made just like I regret mine every single second I breathe.
=]
"So so what?
I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And i don't need you
And guess what
I'm having more fun
And now that we're done
I'm gonna show you tonight
I'm alright, I'm just fine
And you're a tool
So so what?
I am a rockstar
I got my rock moves
And I don't want you tonight"
