Chicago's seven states away with the girl and the guy and the one she's trying so hard to lose her virginity to and no matter what I do, it can't physically be me because I'm a girl and it sucks. I read that poem in English and now find myself wearing a fairy costume for extra credit on the Tuesday follwing Labor Day.
There's this thing about balloons, when you inflate them and feel a tingly sensation in your cheeck and I hate it, but damn I love balloons. I get that tingly feeling even when I'm nowhere near whatever the material it is they make those things with--plastic? hell if i know, but I know one thing and that's history and Happy Birthday McCain, you are one old fuck, And I was going to vote for you until you made that Sarah-chick you're running mate. Now, when you die in office, that small-town Alaska governor is going to rule us? Like hell. It's time to Barack the vote, despite his color, and ignoring the fact that he's only been a senator for four years. If I hear one more time the so-called connection between Obama and Lincoln, proposed by Obama himself, I will endorse Nadore because he's obviously the only true candidate in this handicap race. America isn't ready for this--shit, Earth isn't ready for this campaign and it's lost but there's nothing I can do 'til June.
How do you explain to an Ap Literature teacher why you're miserable and why you were expelled from two different private Catholic Schools? This is not rhetorical, I really dont know, so if you happen to stumble across an answer, inform me via email, sincerely.
Dear Bishop Moore,
You were gorgeous today, with your lavish golden shirts, glimmering in the sun, and the tall palm trees metaphorically explaining to me that I could never measure up and now my chance is lost. I enjoyed the new look you've given the Band Hallway, paper and pictures gallore. Nice new skirts, by the way, I guess the girls are miserable there, too? See, here's the thing: Would I rather have been sitting in the band room listening to percussion make obnoxious noises after a difficult day in remedial classes wearing a hideous excuse for a uniform? No, I was completely content to sit in the car with Mikael, no AC, blasting out Bob Marley or Jimmy Cliff or whoever it was, jonesing for a smoke on campus and getting anxious at coming home again. I'm not being sarcastic for once. I was happy to be there with him in the car, just visiting, because Bishop Moore was never home and could never be again. I strategically avoided dress code violation, and I commend you for perfecting my charismatic skills with adults of the teacher proffession. She was enamored and pleased so I was saved from spending another day at home, where everything lingers sullenly, it's not the place I wish to spend time at. However, i was tardy for class and i blame you for failing to instil puntuality in you number one student; Mariah Frances Anderson. I was back today and yes it was hard, but Mikael was there, and I received more hugs than on my birthday because people remembered my name. So altogether, it wasn't a waste, and I bought new clothes for school afterwards because I'm not obliged to wear a conformity costume. Fuck the Hornets; Eagles fly HIGHER.
As Always,
Mariah.
How do you explain to an Ap Literature teacher why you're miserable and why you were expelled from two different private Catholic Schools? This is not rhetorical, I really dont know, so if you happen to stumble across an answer, inform me via email, sincerely.
Dear Bishop Moore,
You were gorgeous today, with your lavish golden shirts, glimmering in the sun, and the tall palm trees metaphorically explaining to me that I could never measure up and now my chance is lost. I enjoyed the new look you've given the Band Hallway, paper and pictures gallore. Nice new skirts, by the way, I guess the girls are miserable there, too? See, here's the thing: Would I rather have been sitting in the band room listening to percussion make obnoxious noises after a difficult day in remedial classes wearing a hideous excuse for a uniform? No, I was completely content to sit in the car with Mikael, no AC, blasting out Bob Marley or Jimmy Cliff or whoever it was, jonesing for a smoke on campus and getting anxious at coming home again. I'm not being sarcastic for once. I was happy to be there with him in the car, just visiting, because Bishop Moore was never home and could never be again. I strategically avoided dress code violation, and I commend you for perfecting my charismatic skills with adults of the teacher proffession. She was enamored and pleased so I was saved from spending another day at home, where everything lingers sullenly, it's not the place I wish to spend time at. However, i was tardy for class and i blame you for failing to instil puntuality in you number one student; Mariah Frances Anderson. I was back today and yes it was hard, but Mikael was there, and I received more hugs than on my birthday because people remembered my name. So altogether, it wasn't a waste, and I bought new clothes for school afterwards because I'm not obliged to wear a conformity costume. Fuck the Hornets; Eagles fly HIGHER.
As Always,
Mariah.
"I wanna run through the halls of my high
school. I wanna scream at the
top of my lungs. I just found out
there's no such thing as the real world,
Just a lie you've got to live above"
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