In order to establish a more bearable existence, I, Mariah Frances Anderson, do hereby ordain the following as procedure for dealing with the unbearable:
1) smile when you're cheeks are stained with tears. When your makeup runs, it looks pathetic, and I don't need anyone's sympathy anymore. I'm not a god damn drama queen.
2) Look at the cup as a cup. Stop trying to figure out if it's half-full or half-empty. It's just a cup and it's contents do not concern me at all.
3) dance. with grace, with style, and with all the effort of a clumsy elephant. Point those toes, remember your presence, and always act light as the air you're not breathing.
4) stop remembering. Cut your memories apart with a sharpened butcher's knife. Drink more juice, eat more vegetables, and forget you ever saw her face, her skin, her body in your bed.
5) attempt the unattemptable---organize your priorities. List your goals. Make a plan. Stick to it. Maybe this time we wont completely fuck this up.
6) Give life a taste. Show the world you are an amazing individual and everyone who disagrees needs to make their own declaration of independence.
7) fake it til you make it. If at anytime, it seems out of reach, pretend you've already caught it. Nobody else has to know how miserable you feel on the inside, if they only ever care about what's portrayed outside your incompetent mind.
I've let go of my hatred for Krystal. I've released my yearning for Bishop Moore. The bitterness was swelling, but now it's evaporated and incidentally, I seem a happier girl. With love stories, plays, and girls traipsing through my brain, nobody has to know.
it's the greatest secret I've ever imagined. And it's mine. I let go of my excuses. It was my fault. It is my fault. And it will always be. All those feelings I've tried to keep safe have broken loose and are destroying the world. About damn time. Where were you last March, when I could've used a hand in wrecking the universe? Don't worry---I handled it on my own, enough, but really, next time keep up. it's one disaster after another, and if you fall behind, it'll be like watching new shows when you never watched the re-runs. Don't be that one person.
it's the greatest secret I've ever imagined. And it's mine. I let go of my excuses. It was my fault. It is my fault. And it will always be. All those feelings I've tried to keep safe have broken loose and are destroying the world. About damn time. Where were you last March, when I could've used a hand in wrecking the universe? Don't worry---I handled it on my own, enough, but really, next time keep up. it's one disaster after another, and if you fall behind, it'll be like watching new shows when you never watched the re-runs. Don't be that one person.
When I finally dropped the earliest perspective, I think I began to love. If I could turn back time---
Well, I wouldn't.
" Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone."
part II
part II
Waking up late for school leaves my groove ungrooving. Jake drove me there, which was nice of him, really. I wanted to sleep on his backseat until at least second period, but he was not hearing it. Damn. I was shot by AP Environmental before Kathy found my body and drove me to the Bank, the E.R. and then Diane's house. They pulled a "Diane and Mary." When they don't want to go to school, but Kathy and I do, they purposefully wake up an hour late. Kathy, being Kathy, will wait for them to get ready if Mrs. Crown isn't home, which she wasn't, I just sit around and smoke cigarettes, putting in my two-cents every now and then. It was delightful, but they were being snarky with each other and that makes an unpleasant experience. I believe I went to Einsteins and I met this boy I already knew named Paul S.Ironic, but what was I to expect? I fucked him in the public restroom but it wasn't as exciting since nobody was in there, anyways. naughtier things have happened, but I suspect his co-workers will dedicate some extra time to sterilizing that sink their next shift. It was hot, mind you, but his glasses got in the way and clinked with mine, plus Jake was waiting outside. Awkward.But we drove to Amber's. I had never met her before, and I wouldn't want to again. It's fine, she's moving to West Virginia. I got my nap at last.My girls treat me like their little kid sister who follows them around. I'm almost the youngest, but not quite, and apparently I'm twelve sometimes, but they think I act like the biggest potsmoker, which I haven't touched in a bit.They just think I'm a little kid they have to protect and baby and take care of.I think it's time for Chicago.I will not talk about practice. If I can forget about it---it never happened. The End.
