Resolutions

 Dear 2010,

You remind me a lot of that one thing that ruins a kid's life over and over and over and then suddenly is recognized as absolutely necessary for that kid's survival in the real world. I keep writing this next sentence differently because I can't decide what I want to say. Hm. I don't know. I guess when shit hits the fan so often... I don't know. Adversity makes you stronger, I've always known that. You just made me relearn it the hard way. I won't miss you, but I'll remember. And I still have four pages of acknowledgment sitting in a notebook for me to find again in ten years. I don't know what else to say to you. 

1. I resolve to practice my clarinet twenty minutes, every day. At least. I will learn my parts in a timely fashion. No more doing just enough. No more bullshitting my way through runs until the week of the concert. 

2. I resolve to be a little less hesitant, and to act with conviction and confidence. 

3. I resolve to be patient.

4. I resolve to be honest.

Love from,

keira

All Things.

Hm.

Anyhow.

Januray. Tense. I knew I wouldn't get into the show. And pit was a very close shave. I walked into the room with the lowest expectations and the most obviously forced smile. That secret was still a secret, relatively. I'd gotten over the concept and had moved to the actual content.

February. Started this blog. Thought I'd be clever and was not vague, talking about things in real sentences, with proper nouns. Reflected in an easy, superficial way, and I began trying. I also began feeling a little more than butterflies. A little bit of fear. I fell in love with pit orchestra. I could hold my own with the other musicians. I liked my section and I found a friend in that little eighth grader.

March. I acknowledged the object and objectification as a problem. I started ditching class and talking to that guy in my boat and not caring about anything but trying. I spent a lot of time waiting and watching. I memorized my music in the space of a week, and that secret started slipping out to people for no particular reason. The fear settled into the pit of my stomach, something I got used to but hated.

April. Fucking April. Began rehearsal with the cast. The oyster caught my eye and a second, different fear sat down next to the now old one. Opening night was everything I wanted it to be in my small child's mind. My lovesick teenaged mind, however, was left wanting. I took a chance that one Thursday and did something incredibly stupid. I was very much a sixteen-year-old girl that night. My secret got out on closing weekend without my knowledge. By that time, I had closed myself off to everyone save for two people. One person really. I was open only to those who were entirely unreceptive. I was further intrigued by the events of the closing party, and thought I was actually getting the attention I longed for, finally, but I actually wasn't. The weird looks were just pity with a dab of caution and a hint of amusement. 

May. The fear intensified and I noticed the small flower. I still thought I had a chance, but time was running out, and that deadline was a bigger weight in my gut than anything else. The flower wasn't frightening though, a thought I dismissed at the time, but came to realize that the absence of fear was me slowly realizing that a flower, at least, can't hurt you. On the days I had the nerve to walk near them, I planned out the time it took to get to third period and walked at a pace relative to what would give us a chance, a chance that we, inevitably, never took. I was more concerned with who was sitting below me than who was sitting next to me, but the fascination was there. I just disregarded it because time was running out. I was counting.

June. I walked quickly, all the time. I constantly felt like everything was closing in all at once. Every few minutes I had to remind myself to focus on right now, that if I didn't, I would eat myself from the inside out. Time was running out in everything, but the only thing I cared about was having time to try, again and again. Grades weren't even a second thought by then. I convinced myself that my dad would understand, if only I could bring myself to explain, and that I was a victim, a helpless sixteen-year-old girl and that it wasn't my fault. I came thisclose to telling my counselor what the hell was wrong with me. I got into Advanced Women's and got my iPod stolen in the same day. I watched my name come up on a page that wasn't mine in a sentence, an accusation, that literally paralyzed me with terror. I found out that they all were told back in fucking April, and was humilated. I felt the need to apologize profusely to everyone but that little flower. I chose to walk away at graduation, to walk off that field and to celebrate with seniors I actually know. A few days after school got out, I organized my thoughts into somewhat understandable sentences and explained myself. Second moment of paralyzing terror: when her name appeared on my screen in the form of a chat box. Lucky I was home alone, that I could express my frustration with my own lack of ability to speak clearly and confidently. A few days before spring training, I got a call telling me I was the ADM. I finally had something else to think about. I was dumb and held on as tightly as possible to the graduating class. I realized the beautiful and knowing oyster was just a clam, was only ever just a clam. The flower was still a flower, and is still the only thing I can think of without letting myself be afraid again.

July. Band camp. I came back to the best thing that has happened to me in my high school career unsure if I was welcome. I made amends with the boy who has good intentions and remembered that boy who makes me smile. Things were looking up. All the while, I was alternating between embracing and ignoring that ever-growing minor crush, and that fascination was always present. I thought about how I don't drink soda but had three root beer floats anyway and we talked late into the night. It's a girl, I said. haha ok then. I read The Little Prince and saw insanity in beautiful words.

August. I fucked up summer school. Really, really badly. Where before I was focused on trying, here I was focused on not trying, on relaxing and healing. I broke my parents' hearts yet again and it didn't surprise me one bit.

September. Fresh start, but without my closest ally. Three days in I get a drunk message that made for a decent conversation where I didn't second-guess my every word. Choir made me smile, makes me smile, every day. My crush on the senior was just there, not ignored or embraced. I didn't want or expect anything from it, and reveled in the fact that I could feel and not feel a need to act on the feeling.

October. I started talking late, to the point that I would be sternly reprimanded for still being up. I told someone about the senior crush that I shouldn't have, and things fell down. It wasn't a big deal though. I wasn't at fault this time, so I didn't freak out or cry or anything. I still hadn't cried all year. I was only beginning to leak a very little bit.

November. I almost relapsed into cutting class. It was such a close thing, it scared me. I pulled myself together though, and walked to history. The boy who sits next to me is great. We're going to watch The Breakfast Club. I cried on the way to school that one day and almost didn't get out of the car. I cried on and off through zero period and then went home and cried in the safety of my room and then slept all day. The night HP7 came out I performed with my choir for the first time, and admitted my dishonesty and fell asleep at the best and and worst point in the conversation.

December. That conversation happened. Apparently, I was very obviously flustered all the next day. Which I was, with good reason. I turned seventeen. I was in my first choir concert and faced a physical reminder of last year and I was fine. I realized that the clam is a sad and empty and bitter and fundamentally flawed thing who happens to look like she has a pearl. Christmas was a let-down and I realized that when the small things charm you, the bigger things lose their shine. A mixture of emotions almost let me end it. The only reason I didn't is because we got off the freeway and it wouldn't work on a normal street. I cried in the rain for the first time in my life, in front of my house. My favorite Christmas gift, by far: 

If I had a thing to give you, I would tell you one more time that the world is always turning towards the morning.

1999. Kindergarten.

Is ninety-nine a special number? Is that feeling of near-completion, of being on the brink of change, the cusp of something new actually there? Is it a trait in the number we notice, or is it a trait we've assigned to it because 100 is next?

Huh. I can't not try. I can't just not go, not make a decent attempt. Because that is surrender. That's admitting I was wrong, have been wrong this whole time. Which is false. 

The snow is saving my ass right now. And the rain is just. It feels like everything is on hold right now. 

We made it through a rough patch. Or maybe it was just rough to me, but I made it through without mishap. And in the right direction. 

I'm going to buy footie pajamas today. 

It would be funnier if this was post ninety-nine.

I. Just realized something tonight. Maybe, if a question goes unanswered, it wasn't supposed to be asked. I have decided for myself that going away terrifies me. I also decided that it's something people like us need to do. 

No words, just eye contact.

Also. Arguing. Discussing things with a person who sees things differently from you, who interrupts and is playing the devil's advocate, is something I really learn from. I get frustrated, but it really bolsters my own ideas to have to defend them. And I like giving people a run for their money.
The best thing is to not attach yourself to far off strangers. Be with the people who care about you. The people who are watching, sure they're supportive, sympathetic. But it is the people on stage with you, holding your hand and singing with you who should be thought of and cared for.

Yes. I was looking at you. I was smiling at you.
This was a good way to accept the past.

Peter Bradley Adams- Angeles 

I cried.  

Seventeen.

Well. Yesterday was wonderful. Even though I was with a ton of freshmen boys. 

It's weird because I don't know all of them all that well. And I'm already in relatively good standing with them. I don't have to try at all. I just am who I want to be because I don't have to try to impress them. I don't have to hide or cover up anything. I didn't even let Benedict Arnold ruin my evening.

I like these little distractions. I like being distracted from distractions. I find a new one every so often and so things flow. I've learned to not get stuck anymore. Think of something new.

But. Distraction Number One. 
you see what I did there? I'm assigning numbers, and that means I'm getting objective. that's a bad thing.
 
I have a copy of the key to my mom's car. I'm taking an online course now. I can go see R rated movies, just because. Black Swan anyone?

A good friend of mine told me crushes are supposed to be fun. So this will be completely frivolous, I decided. 

bumbumbum,bumbumbum,bumbumbum,bumbumbum,bumbumbum,bumbumbum,bumbumbumbumbumbum.

I'd like to stay and try my first champagne.

I took a  while to decide whether to write this like a script or not.
It ended up seeming like a bad idea.
Do I have a things with prolonged metaphors?

I feel like I'm sitting here with a full glass of wine. I've never tasted it before. My glass is literally brimming, that I can hardly lift it without spilling. The kid next to me has a glass that is empty. Completely dried up. There is nothing left. And well, I have too much and I'd very much like to share. To help refill, to put something there in that gaping emptiness. I don't know what it's like to have an empty glass because I've never tasted wine, but looking at it makes me sad. But you won't get anything back, you say. Yes I will, I say. I'll get to taste the wine.
After all, I am sixteen going on seventeen.

See?

                                                                                                                                           FAb
Holding up just fine.                                                                                                                                          FAb                            DbF

(it's) Whatever.

Let's be more vague. Just because.

I realized something just now.You can get hurt while handling an object, but a subject can hurt you. And I thought I was in pain this whole time.
 why can't i make any sense now?
So. I think crying is a need. A good crying session is long overdue, and this was just a little quake. Soon we'll have the San Andreas fault line becoming hysterical and well. Let's just hope I can let it off in small amounts.

DANCE. Hmmmmm.
showpitshowpitshowpitshowpitshowpit. Dunno.
This should be interesting.

Deciding.

My last post was decidedly unhappy. Why? Why should I ever again be deliberately negative? What is it with negativity and cynicism and disagreeing and resistance that is so.... I don't know what I'm asking.
I decided something, right now. I will be happy. And I know that is easier said than done. I know things are about to get... interesting, at best. Interesting at least. At best, things will be wonderful. I have some important decisions to make and I don't have a clue how I'm going to figure it out, but it'll be fine. It will be fine. Anxiety will do me no good whatsoever.
I just came home from the AMC. This movie marks the official beginning of the official end of my childhood. This is very bittersweet for me. I'm afraid to move on, but I am so very excited for change. I will put my best foot forward even if I don't quite know where I'll end up. left, left, left. Faith is knowing the stars still shine on cloudy nights.

This season has been better than anything I could have asked for. Even though somewhere in the second movement we got mixed up. That moment there was indescribable. I am so honored to have been a part of this year's band. I just.... I can't even put into words how truly grateful I am. Thank you.

I really hoped this would be a different post tonight.

Unfortunately, no. 101 will be decidedly UNhappy.
So.

What is it about being angry that is so childish? Or, what is it about being childish that is so bad? When you're little and someone is mean to you, you push them. Maybe they fall down and get hurt. OH WELL. They were mean, you were mean back. Even. Balance. Karma.
I am trying so hard not to swear right now. This is ridiculous. Anyway.
Children, as I say quite often, are the most pure, most exposed human beings in the world. They say exactly what they feel. They do exactly what they want.
Why am I not allowed to feel things? Why am I not allowed to be angry? Or hurt? Or SPITEFUL.
Apparently, feelings are childish. MY bad. I should probably just be a robot. Then maybe I could stay in time! What a concept!

P.S. The little bitch inside me plans to read the entire book tonight. Just for spite.

The grown-ups are certainly very, very odd.

This is just so... silly. These things should make one smile, not frown. I am learning to be content with the tingly feeling. Like I said, while love makes one happy, want makes her unhappy. Just let go of the want. It's really very simple.
Here is what I just realized, just now. What happens is that I see things as matters of great consequence. I become too concerned and melodramatic and then I worry myself sick. I shouldn't do that. Not much is so important that I should lose sleep for thinking of it. I look for things too hard. Just sit, and... I don't know. But I don't feel like I have to know. Just smile. Watch the sunset. Sing a song. Watch the stars without counting them, because they're not mine. They just are. I just am.
I feel much better.
I took awhile coming to this. I used to be a counter, an owner, a... mushroom. I used to be a mushroom.


P.S. I learned a new word today. It starts with and 'e' and ends with running away.
P.P.S. 1920. waddup.

It's only a KILLING MACHINE. Why the weird look?

What is the most hideous thing you've ever seen?

ME TOO.
Sometimes, I just cannot believe I'm supposed to be here. I have to be from someplace else. Sometime else.
There's really no way to get out. The disgust will follow me wherever I go. I just hope I get reborn somewhere that isn't proud of this bullshit. 

I just was told I'm going to Hell.

Bitch please.
So. There is a lot going on in my head.
My faith is inconsistent. I know it. But God is patient. I'll get there.
And I'm in awards tomorrow. I suppose that means I'll miss the next one, but like. It's not sitting quite right with me. I don't know why.

Another thing. The Google video actually made me feel better. It gets better. 
On that note. I hate being in the middle of this thing. I'm glad to be the messenger, but honey you need to step up. I know nothing will come of your attempts, not right now anyway. But girl. It will be fine whatever you do. I'm not going to lie and say it won't hurt. It will. But I'll be with you the whole time. I mean. We're basically the same person, after all. Just be honest with her. 

Me: You're a liar.
Myself: You're the liar.
(Both sigh heavily at once.)

True Colors.

Many things. 

First, a difference of opinion. I just wasn't braced for that sort of impact. Because there's no such thing as grey area, right?

Second, that would not have been fair to either of us, as we each are incredibly... distracted. 

And third. I'm in the mood for adjectives.

(If any one saw Glee tonight. It was a rerun, but still.)

It's that scene where Finn is walking down the hall with Quinn, and Rachel turns and watches them walk by with these big sad eyes. And then the camera zooms forward to catch Kurt's head turning to follow him too. There aren't big sad eyes. Just this sort of sigh that we can all relate to, but harder. More... hopeless. And hurt, and guilty but also defiant because he's not wrong, it just is thought of that way. And accepting, but also willing to fight whatever battle comes along, and sort of angry, but not angry enough to follow through a punch. Heart-broken. Or maybe it just looks that way to me. Um.

whatever.

No one gives a damn anyway. 

P.S. I suck at adjectives lately. 

I should absolutely not be posting when my hormones are all aflutter. Oh well. 

 

I have this thing where I leak. Not like I pee my pants. My eyes. I quite literally leak. Not even when I'm sad. Just whenever my tear ducts feel like it. It happened twice in the past week. I mean. I'm not saying I have no reason to be crying. It's just been a while since I've cried at school. Like, forever. I'm not used to it.

Also. To be trusted is a wonderful, wonderful thing. I'm grinning right now. 
 

[yes!]

wonderfulwonderfulwonderful

(I am at ease)

Raw Nerve

I am going to be blunt.
No apologies.

I want to be a princess. Legitimately. I want to look pretty all the time.
I can't decided if I want to keep growing out my hair or to just cut it all off. Start over. 
I just sent in my letter for a yellow ribbon. 
I want to be able to fly. I'm serious. You know that kid in X-men, with the wings? I want those. 
I want to buy things online. 
I want to feel okay actually using this blog. I don't want to be vague. I don't want people to think 'what the hell is she talking about?' 
I want to go to Australia. Very, very badly.
I want my English teacher to read my journal already, and I want her to be impressed with how honest I'm being. I really am being honest too. That never happens in school journals like that.
I kind of want to be a singer. 
I want to play the walk across the room game again.
I want to be accepted completely, petty wanting included. 
I don't give a damn what your boyfriend says about me.
I want my faith to be consistent. For the love of God, I want to love Him.
I want to find another good ring.
I want to wear more dresses.
I want to bring a girl home.
And next to that. I want to know if I'm gay or not. Or bi. Or if this is just a phase. This ambiguity is bullshit. It's like a bad meal that just sits in the pit of my stomach ALL THE TIME. I have a constant headache that I hardly even notice anymore, except for when it's very quiet. 
I'm really glad I can be openly (melodramatic). This time last year, I talked to NO ONE. Not about this. And now I can. I'd guess around 70% of the band knows I like her now. I don't think anyone really cares but me, but talking about it is wonderful. I can comfortably use the word 'her' in conversation; for a little while it was weird. 
I'm not looking a for a relationship. most of the time, I'm not looking for a relationship. I don't need one. I just want something solid, emotionally and physically too. I want something to happen where I can be sure of my emotions. Because right now, I feel like all of everything in this entire world just might be going on in my head. I haven't even seen Inception. I still think I'm crazy, I just don't care that much anymore. But I digress.
I want something real, like I said. I want a hand to hold whenever I want. And I have that, but not in a romantic sense. Best friends are wonderful, but it's a difficult thing when you have to share a best friend with some guy. I want someone who wants me, just me. Specifically, specially. Me and all my wanting, my music and ridiculous attention span and my books and ideas and Legos and handwriting and blog and lack of respect for the most respectable things, my cliche poetry and my journals and every last bit of my bullshit. And for me to ask for that is a very selfish thing. And a person like that won't just walk through my door. I don't expect that. I know it'll happen one day. I just want a step in the right direction. I want to know where I'm going, because right now all I can see is myself in third person wandering aimlessly through nothing. Like that one Spongebob episode, where Squidward is in the white nothing and everything he says is displayed in colorful words in the air. 
Goddamn. My self-control is incredible, even to me. I still haven't cried. I sat on my hands at that one away game. What I have kept myself from saying and doing has been bottled up for a ridiculous amount of time. That I haven't yet e x p l o d e d is remarkable, even for me.

I guess that's what this was. A written explosion. A small one, but just you wait.
Why can't I be concise? Why do I have to write a novel every time I feel strongly about something?
Oh yeah. Because I still can't use proper nouns. Where the hell did I learn that? [...] I should just break the fucking rules one day. 
I said I'd be blunt. 

Rainbows

Today is National Coming Out Day.

[...]

Why do I only use pronouns and direct address? Why not names? It's not like people don't know.

So. Things are cleared. At least, my conscience is. I've apologized for my immaturity and I don't plan on exhibiting it again any time soon. 

On that note, well. With her, things are very... careful. Very careful. Not uncomfortable, not polite in order to avoid being rude, and not obviously guarded. Just very careful.

I like John Denver quite a bit. That man knew what's up. 

I am so incredibly lucky to be here. I am surrounded by the most wonderful human beings I could have asked for. I have support from people I hardly know. My family... honestly, my family doesn't give a damn how I identify myself. They just love me. There's no special support from them in this specific situation, but there is a continuation of how things have always been. Nothing has changed, and that's just fantastic. 

I love singing. 

I decided, right now, this minute, that tomorrow will be a good day. A normal day. No bullshit whatsoever.

 

Sunshine almost always makes me high.

P.S. Happy birthday mom!

This year is going by so fast. I've had moments that I've taken for granted. Sitting in the office copying drill (eating Oreos) and talking about being sure and unsure and Sarah and that one boy and Patrick's eyes. It won't happen again. Summer is over. It's been a month already.

So. This/that is the most awful, MEDIEVAL circumstance I can think of. I can't even think about it because I'll get so worked up about it. Not fair. If it was me, I'd be out the door the moment I turn eighteen. And yeah, yeah, first amendment rights. But you can't just delegate those. Everyone gets them. Just... goddamn. Get your ass out of the 16th century. I'm hurting for your family. (Maybe if I was a real princess I would be okay.)

Also. JUST KISS HER.  Unless you have a master plan for this, it's senior year buddy. Hang the rules.

And my dear, thank you for being such a good friend through all this. I know I'm unbelievably MELODRAMATIC, but you let me yell it in fifth period and you listen to all my crap and complaints and happy moments and everything. And thanks for being my hairdresser. I love you so much.

I really enjoy talking to people. I should have started earlier. Like last year. But oh well. I have no time for regrets anymore.

For what should have been a bad week, this was absolutely fantastic.

P.S. I kind of like three. With three of us, it's more comfortable I think.

A person who is unafraid to present a candid version of herself to the world is as rare as diamonds.

Just something to think about.
I'm doing my best.


I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry. Despite the fact that I discounted most of his reprimands, I'm sorry. I was, in fact, very selfish. That was me at eleven years old. I know better than that and I'm sorry.
 I know there is a difference between honest and rude. Between justifiable discontent and petty complaints. I understand that. I let the line separating the two blur too much, until I thought it was somewhere else. My unhappiness was apparent even to the freshmen and my grievances reached one too many ears. I apologize.  

Rest Assured

Honey, don't even.

So this is going to be a hard week.

It has been quite awhile since someone has directly told an adult on me. Even longer since I was lectured like a child. And even longer since I was so direct about my feelings for someone. Oddly enough, I feel an overwhelming amount of resentment. Towards who or what, I'm not sure. A lot of things. The way this is falling into place gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. My choices were these:

A. Be moody.

B. Be a whiney tell-tale.

C. Explode.

The choice seems obvious to me.Once again, I made the wrong decision.

It seems so childish to say, but the words rang true in the hearts of all the great revolutionaries.

That's not fair.
But when I say it, it's wrong.

I really like direct address.

You,

When is it okay to do that? I gave you a good 30 minutes to come up with a convincing lie and I still don't believe a word you said. Stay the fuck away from me. There is a reason I hadn't told you.

You,

Dumbass. I can't even say anything else. I know the compunction is killing you. I'm doing it on purpose.

You,

Funny how you're always involved. (Hey, let's be lesbians!) I have ears. Goddamn. It's a fucking library, I CAN HEAR YOU.

And you.

Honey. I am so angry with you. THIS HURTS. In case you couldn't tell. I know I'm wearing my 'fuck-off' face a lot these days, but really. I want you to understand what it feels like to be on this end. I can't tell if you're creating distance because I was being melodramatic on Saturday or because I (am) being melodramatic about you. Both of which are true.. It's just stereotypical for the kid being told on to be ignored and not asked for her side. And I should have already learned that.

P.S. I'm doing fantastically well in the world of academics. And I really like holding hands.

(There's that silver lining, sweety.) 

I'm feeling candid.

This is so wonderful. It's the Ican'tevenbreatherightnowbecauseI'msittinginroundtablelaughingsohardImightpukeupmyspleen feeling.
On favoritism:
It's in the moment. Sometimes, you are in a place with a person, and no amount of bribery could make you want to leave. So... you're my favorite.


I like holding hands.


Silly little             .
Wait, you guys. (Thanks poopheads.)

Wait, so....?

The word here is awkward. And one may see awkwardness as uncomfortable, undesirable, unpleasant. But let's compare.


Awkward > Afraid > Ashamed

I've made progress. To be in this situation, this lovely awkward place, is wonderful. Relatively.

And I'm not even angry. Again. And I have no homework tonight.


P.S. Auditions on Friday
P.P.S. I, Keira, shall never again place my trust in anyone.
P.P.P.S. I'm really glad I can trust you.

Not hell or high water, but something else.

I changed my blog.

So here's what I learned from that. Or what happened.

I had one of the old templates. And I guess I really liked it, more than the new ones. Even though I didn't take the time to really look through them. I also had a picture that I really, really liked. But. I made a mistake when I was looking through the new ones. I accidentally saved. I have no way of getting the old template back. And the picture thing doesn't work to my taste on the backgrounds of the new ones.

Guess what?

I changed.
I was too attached to the freaking template. In my head, it perfectly represented all I've been through since the first day of freshman year. But like. It's still here, with me. That sounds stupid. But. I do like the way my blog looks right now. It's late, and I may change it until I find exactly what I want, but the important thing is that I don't feel like I need to hold on to the old one. Come hell or high water, I have changed. I'm different from the kid who started this blog. So I need a new template.

I hope that all is well in heaven,

Cause it's all shot to hell down here.


This has never happened to me before. And it sounds like something out of a movie.
Hm hm hm hm hmmmmmm, hm hm hm hm hmm

Just. She was dying for a long time. I thought it would just stay that way.

I miss you. I think of you when I sing every day. Every day.




In loving memory,
Our very own Christmas Spirit.
 
  God, keep her safe and happy. And please let her have her hair back. Thank you. Love, Keira.

Let me ask AGAIN.

Why do I do this?
Am I a masochist?

Really?

Two girls sitting at a table, stage right. Single spot (quiet light this time) on them, otherwise dark stage. One holds a bottle of what seems to be some sort of alcoholic beverage and looks tired, but pleased. The other sits ramrod straight, livid and scared, pale as a ghost.  

Myself: YOU DID WHAT?

Me: (Sheepishly) I know, I know. But it's not like a really big deal or anything.

Myself: How is this not a big deal. Why do you always do this?

Me: Because. I just do it, that's all.

Myself: That's an awful excuse, Keira.

Me: But you say the same thing! That's not fair.

Myself: (Harshly) Life isn't fair. That's how it works.

Me: That's dumb. It's not even a big problem. Nothing will happen.
Myself: But here's the issue. You expect something to happen. (Bringing her hands up to rest her chin upon.) If you didn't think something would work in your favor, you wouldn't have done it.
Me: No! I just did it, just because. I know nothing will happen. 
Myself: Why take the chance, Keira? Why put yourself in a position for things to go wrong?
Me: Nothing's wrong!
Myself: Not yet it's not. 
Me: (Leans back in chair, crossed arms defensively) This is why you wanted a boyfriend, isn't it. So I wouldn't do this kind of thing.
Myself: Please don't be angry with me. I'm only-
Me: Just stop. You always think you're right! You always do. Don't pretend like you don't.
Myself: We both think that. 
(Silence. For a moment they both sit there, one leaning back, arms crossed, the other resting her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her intertwined fingers. At the same time, one relaxes and sits back toward the table, the other letting her hands fall to her lap.)
Myself: (quietly) I just worry, you know?
Me: Yeah. I know. 
Myself: (With a small smile) You're pretty pleased with yourself, huh?
Me: (Also smiling) ... yeah.
Myself: But... (Looking down at her hands in her lap) how can you be sure nothing bad will happen? How do you know?
Me: (As if just realizing her answer) I don't. Not really. I just don't let myself dwell on it. Just... just do it and be done. I said what needed to be said, and that's that. Simple really.
Myself: You sound so sure.
Me: It'll be fine. I promise. 
Myself: But what if it's not?
Me: It will be. Maybe there will be a bit of an adventure before it gets to being alright, but it will get there. I know it.
(Momentary silence, length at the discretion of the actress)
Myself: (looking up) What did you say?
Me: (slowly)  What would you have said?
Myself: ...(!) Oh. (smiles)
     
scene


  

Well. This is uncomfortable.

I would like to make a point.
Just because you just got into your first real relationship, you think you can tell me I need one too?
Oh my god Keira. You're a junior. 
Yeah. So.
A JUNIOR.

here's my issue with that. and my issue with you.
I don't care.
That's a lie.
I don't mind. 
I really don't. It's not a priority. It's not something I'm going to chase. And this is why.
Love leads to happiness.
Want, on the other hand, leads to misery.
It's neither here nor there, until it strolls into my life.

(haha.)

This song evokes a sensation I haven't a way to explain.

It's like they put everything that ever happened to me and condensed it to five minutes and sixteen seconds. That's why I can't find a picture.

It's my first trip to Disneyland.
It's the inside of my room.
The Mira Costa stage, and the seats and the aisles and the lobby. And every show and concert I've ever seen there.
It's the Christmas lights I have hanging on my bed.
My ring.
The only good belt I own.
It's the stack of home videos sitting in the next room.
It's the house on fifteenth street.
My squeaky saddle shoes, and donuts on Sunday, and getting locked in the bathroom at church, and bread-and-buttering with Mom and Daddy on the way to school.

I can't
I mean. It's difficult to... describe...?
And the chords, like.
Okay.
It's just this, this something. That every time I try to describe it, I lose every good word in my vocabulary.
Like.
Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Just listen to it one day, when it's really quiet.
Just

I had a dream that I couldn't get to Neverland.
I could fly, with enough dust. My thoughts were happy enough that I could have cast a Patronous. I just couldn't get there. My flight pattern was inconsistent. Sometimes, I couldn't even get to the beach from my house. And when I did, I got to the point where I could see the island, I was so close. And I would fall.
Like, plummet. It was terrifying. And the thing is, if I had been a few inches closer, I would have fallen onto the island. I didn't even get to see Captain Hook.
Does that mean my childhood fears are gone? Or just hiding.

And you were giving me the dust. We had sent Tink ahead, but we had a rope covered in it. And you were the one that shook some onto me. We were smiling.

I don't know right now. But I also don't feel the urgent need to know.
So... I guess things are good.

I would normally use words.

I haven't any really good ones at the moment.
Just.
In June, I wrote out like, a whole four pages of acknowledgement. It's sitting on my bed.
It was important. But I don't need to say anything else about it.

But. School.
Well. Wind Ensemble is great. Because we're it now. It's mostly us. It's not scary anymore.
And drama is interesting. I don't have enough to make the call yet.

Choir is supposed to the hour we want every day.
And the thing is, it actually is.

We played the walk across the room game. I mean.

Home games.
It's the moment where we're all in the dark and all you can hear is Mirada and car alarms. That's the why for being there.

Drum Major Battle Scars

Well. This is new.

It's a crush, which is ridiculous. I say crush only when I talk to people who won't get my definition of the word.
But this one is actual. By my own definition, a purely physical reaction to a person. And you know what? That's just not fair. Because I need to stay professional. And for all intensive purposes, this specific human being is taken.
So...... yeah. Whatever.

(On a side note, guess whose name is written like, three times on the stand in front of me as I sang today?
You betcha.)

And let's take it back to you.
Here it is.
... It's yours.
You're thinking of my heart. I'm thinking that's a given. You're going to have to look elsewhere for what I'm talking about.
But then again, let's be patient. Very patient.
And, well.

It's because you make me smile, I think.

Epiphanies

It's funny because it was the twenty-seventh.
I like irony.

It's funny because I realized that I can't hang onto people. Inconcistency is one of the most basic human flaws. And it took me all year to see that. I tried really hard to attach myself to an assortment of people. And of course that didn't work, because they're all human. And I love humans, don't get me wrong.
But this is where faith comes in.
God will walk beside me every step of the way, whether I know it at the time or not.

One night, I was lying in bed. It was some time around 2am. I was feeling alone. And then I wasn't.
I think it was God telling me he's here. I took awhile to recognize that, but that's alright. I had to come to it on my own. He would have waited for me.

And. You.
Here it is.
I love you.
And it's going to be so great knowing you. I can feel it.

I look forward to singing with you.

On April 26th, I posted something about having just seven weeks.
Um.

You. You were the one I worried about the most. Because... I don't know why. Because you trust me so much. Because you're so young. Because I care much too much about what you think of me.

Because you were the one who sat next to me for those few glorious hours of some thing. You were the one who laughed with me through the whole ridiculous drama of it all. You were the one who waited beside me, who worried with me about whether that note had been sent, content to laugh at the recipient with me, not even knowing who she was.
I'd like to be your sister.
And today, I hesitated. You didn't get impatient, which is more than I'd be able to say for myself. You just sat there in that chair with your big smiling brown eyes and looked at me and said, "I have one question for you. I think you know what it is." And I said, "If you're asking what I think you're asking, my answer is I don't know yet."
And you laughed and hugged me and it was alright.
I'd kept you waiting since March for that truth. I was afraid you wouldn't be here anymore. I was afraid you would go away, and stay there.

If this summer, this week even, was a catharsis, this year is going to be the part where the writer finds inspiration.

Oh, don't mind me.

Alright. You. SUCK IT UP. No one likes the kid who milks everything. This is me being honest. Maybe it hurts. But you need to get over yourself. I mean it.

You. Also need to get over yourself, but differently than her. You need to learn respect. You need to realize that WE ARE NOT A DRUM CORP. We are a high school marching band. We are mediocre. I am proud of us, but that's the truth. Knee problems my ass. Now we have a move that can't be cleaned. (Great.)

You. I thought you were the secretly sweet guy who was just doing his best with a  dumb boss. And that thought was tainted today. You're supposed to be him. The guy. You know, that guy. Him. And now... well, now I'm not sure. And the thing is, I need to be sure. About everything. It's just this thing I have.

You. Speaking of sudden inconsistencies, I was surprised this morning. Mom said, "No wonder you don't do your homework."
Mrs. Thomas said, "If you can't do your homework, you can you expect to keep up in real life?"
Well you did your homework. It seems to be the 'real life' part where you're having trouble. You were the one I looked to for guidance. You were a fucking rock. And now that is unsure as well.

And you. You just fucking had to fucking tie it back to fucking college. Could you not tell that I was about to cry anyway?  You just thought I was pretending to be stupid. The truth is, I couldn't even hear you the first time because I heard this terrifying roaring in my ears and I felt light-headed. Sorry, next time I'll pay more attention.
I would have cried too. If you hadn't pressed the numb button. When it comes to my faults academically, I go numb. You should know that already.

Let me say again:
There is a reason I'm leaving.

But you don't listen anyway.


I hate being unsure. I have to know. Excuse me. I do my best. I just have to know.
That's the why for my everything.

Indiana Jones Again

I would first like to say.
I found the missing arm to my keychain. It was sitting in the bottom of my backpack all year.
wow.

I am very happy today. I can speak in past tense now. I didn't know I could do that until today.
... and I laughed. It was funny.

It will have been hilarious.

And then. The thing is, you're a ridiculously pretty twenty-something. That's the whynot right now.

But you sir are it. I think. I don't really mind being wrong anymore.

This year is going to be so fucking good.
I'm really happy.

The best thing is talking with the people you'd like to know.

And one more thing. Somewhere inside $25 an hour, I will learn this song. Even though I don't have a pedal.

(FAb ^FAb.........C#F)

Two girls sitting at a table, stage right. Single spot on them, otherwise dark stage. One holds a bottle of what seems to be some sort of alcoholic beverage and sits up straight. The other is very relaxed, leaning back in chair.

Me: It's been so long since we talked.
Myself: Yup. How are you?
Me: I'm fantastic!
Myself: So things are going well. That's good to hear.
Me: Mmhm! And you? Feeling any better?
Myself: (takes a long drink from the bottle)Sometimes. Recovery is slow. Frustrating.
Me: What do you mean?
Myself: A lot of relapses. I keep going back to how I used to be.
Me: Well that's dumb. Maybe just work harder...?
Myself: Maybe.
(long silence. Myself takes a drink from the bottle. Me is very uncomfortable with the silence.)
Myself: (suddenly) I do try, you know. I do. (Waits for me to respond. When I don't, continues.) It's almost funny, how hard I try. Some days I sprint through all the courses, pass all the tests with flying colors. But a lot of the time, I walk.
Me: Why would you do that?
Myself: I like to walk.
Me: But why? You're supposed to run. That's what the courses are for.
Myself: (more surely) I like to walk. If the courses are made just for running, why wouldn't they just use a track? Why put in all the details? Why put them there to be ignored?
Me: I don't know, that's just how it is!
Myself: Yeah, I guess.
Me: Maybe you'd like running more if you weren't so bad at it. You should work on that.
Myself: Maybe.
Me: You could lose some weight while you're at it.
Myself: (offended slightly but mostly surprised) Okay.
Me: And get to work on your skin, it looks terrible.
Myself: (more slowly) Okay. (takes another drink)
Me: You should do some real work, like all your friends do.
Myself: (tuning her out) Sure.
Me: Maybe they'd like you better if you did that.
Myself: Alright.
Me: Yeah. that would be good for you.
Myself: Mmmmhm. (another drink)
Me: Hey, you're hardly even paying attention! You need to get it together girl! Look at your grades! Maybe you're just stupid.
Myself: (paying attention now, firmly) I'm not stupid.
Me: Who are you kidding? Your grades are awful, you're not taking any APs, and you have no talent.
Myself: I'm not stupid. I know things.
Me: Like what?! What are you good at? (glaring expectantly)
Myself: (uncertainly) I play clarinet... and cello. And I'll be in choir-
Me: (interrupting) Yes, I know, you'll be in choir. And drama and band. But GUESS WHAT! You suck at those too. You have no talent. You have nothing. You are nothing.
Myself: (quietly) shut up.
Me: Hahaha you can't even come up with a good comeback. You're a failure and you know it. 
Myself: Shut up.
Me: Oh please. You don't even want to be anything. You can't get anywhere without dropping out halfway through. You just walk and walk and walk and you're supposed to be running! Or didn't you know that.
Myself: I thought we established this earlier. I like to walk. 
Me: Walking is stupid. Like you. 
Myself: I'm not stupid. Shut up.
Me: You're fat and lazy and stupid and you walk everywhere. (leaning across the table into her face) You're supposed to run, Keira. You think you can just walk, or lie in the stupid grass and make stupid daisy chains and keep a stupid garden with stupid roses and live in stupid Prague and have stupid music and stupid happiness. You think you can do these stupid things but you can't. It's doesn't work that way. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO RUN, STUPID.
Myself: ...  

okay.

(Blackout)  

Because... I don't know why. I just realized.

It's time to be honest.

I was looking for someone to cry with. And you don't get that from people you hardly know. I'll have to open up to a real person. And that's scary. I mean. I've never done that. So it's new.

I realized that had this happened earlier, I wouldn't have been ready. I was too unstable still. I needed to think I was very stable, and then I needed to realize I wasn't, at all.
And now, I feel like I can handle anything.

You sir, asked me many, many times if I would (have).
I... don't know. Still. But it doesn't matter.

And then. That was an honest conversation we had. I felt so okay with saying whatever I wanted to. About anyone and anything. And you've had worse shit than I have, but you don't make me feel like my problems are small. I mean. You listened. And that was good.
And the sun came out. But only after we dared to swim in the freezing cold water.
That's how it works.

This is dangerous, I reckon.

I keep having these dreams.
And, well.

The dialogue is pretty specific. I mean.
"So it's come to my attention that... you think I'm like, in love with you...? And the thing is, I'm kinda not..."
"Don't lie to me Keira."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"..."
"..."
I'm not talking about you. You think I'm talking about you because you think you're still the big deal, but you're not, anymore.
 (Do you understand how great it is to think of you and not feel like a child?)

It's weird that I dreamed that because... I fully intended to say it. Among other things. I was going to. So many different times I was going to. I was ready for that accusation. I had my words all lined up, like on the playground in first grade. It was going to work.

Wait. Right there.
At first I used the regret argument against myself. But then I realized something.

Never ever do something for fear of regret if you don't.
Do it because you want to.

And you, over there.
I have a lot of hope in this situation. And I shouldn't but I do anyway.
We got married. And we had a photographer and a reception and everything.
And when I woke up from that dream this morning I was smiling.

WOW. wow.

Hey.
Do you see this face?
I know it looks like I'm about to cry.
This is actually my 'fuck off' face.
...

Okay. I'm going to Prague.

You wouldn't like it very much if I said you can only shop at one store for your whole life.
You wouldn't like it very much if I said going to college in NY is a stupid thing to do.
You wouldn't like it if I said your favorite color is the worst color ever.
You really wouldn't like it if I didn't ask you to explain, but went right on tearing down your ideas.
You would be upset if I tried to force an answer out of you and then assumed you didn't have one because you didn't answer me immediately.
You would be offended if I said something was ridiculous or out of the question without even thinking that maybe, just maybe you personally thought it was legitimate.
You would be angry if your ideas were COMPLETELY dismissed by seven or eight people all at once. Those seven or eight being people you actually respect(ed) and want(ed) to get closer to.

You would be indignant.
You would be hurt.
You would probably cry.

But that's just you. It's alright to do that to me because I have no feelings, right?

That's something you find here that you don't find a lot of other places. A lack of respect.
It's common courtesy.





look. i need to relearn to love this country. because it broke my heart. sorry.

Look at my face again.
Fuck off. 

Remember, remember the fifth of November

It was comfortable. Really, really comfortable. Okay.

I have such good friends. I need them. Not attractive strangers.

These people love me. I truly believe that. And while the others may be interesting, they don't love me.
I don't love them.


I watched V for Vendetta.

There was a moment where I was uncomfortable. Really.
But then I wasn't. Because it's okay. Because they won't throw me in prison and torture me for being me.
The names were funny though.

Discomfort is a habit. A routine. It's not a real sensation anymore. That part is over.

The only way on is up.

Did you see that?

That, darling, was me being grown-up.
When I was three, I had my first experience on stage. I was the kid. You know. That kid. The one sobbing and trying to get off stage.

And I guess tonight was the point where I realized.
I'm still a kid. I'm still stupid a lot, and I don't make sense sometime.


But I have grown up. Maybe just a little, but it's there.

... yeah. :)

You got it.

EXACTLY!
You all are such good guessers. I think I'm such a victim and I want attention SO FUCKING BADLY.
Now that we're clear.

I feel like it will work. I was terrifies we'd fall flat, but it's really coming together. I mean, coming off a production like that made me predisposed to being very critical. But I really think it's going to work.

Also. We're on our way. It's a good start. I just think it should have been actually finished a while ago.
But maybe it's just me. But I'm still leaving.

Also. Why do people assume the worst out of people? It annoys me, because I'm better than that. I know that. I beat your expectations already, just by being here and okay.

And then.
ASSHOLE.

Last one. I enjoy the stage. I was always afraid, but I have no reason to be. I like when a scene comes together, when the choreography just clicks. I'm still just a kid there. But it might be a nice place to grow up.

word of the day: weather
v. to bear up against and come safely through

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Well.
It's funny how shit only happens when you stop expecting it. I have my reasons for being paranoid.

To my notebook,
I'm sorry I thought you were replaceable. I was wrong, I see that now.

Do you all remember when I said I don't need anyone, and that you can fucking keep Toto when I blow away?
I'm saying it again.

then again.



someone.
please.
dear god,

I don't believe in you specifically. Not you in Christian form. But I have a feeling you're there somewhere. Just, help me see that I have what I need, and I don't need anything more than that.

I'm an Expressive. A driving Expressive. I tell people how I feel. It's in my nature.
Thanks anyway though.


To my crazy,
Maybe it's better you're here. It gives me comfort. It's a constant. You are welcome back any time. Please.


I'm done.
And then


DUH. head desk.

There is a reason I didn't trust people.

T

This (was) a man that knew how to play. And look what happened.

His last words
TRUST NO ONE.

You're just a kid, and you don't understand.

Okay. So.
I hear that on tv shows. And you've said things that might suggest that. But.
I have never heard those words. Not from you, not from anyone. And I never thought that would be assumed of me. Not outside school at least.

When I said don't push. I meant don't push. If I had meant let people walk all over you, I would have said it.
HOLD YOUR GROUND.
And maybe I am a little kid in some places, and there are definitely times when I don't actually get it.

But dammit I've got it where it counts.
I know that. You know it's true, don't lie to me. Or to yourself.
How many teenagers can say that and be telling the truth?

...

Exactly.


Now. When you're a little kid, you think and feel things, but do not realize their significance. In elementary school, it really mattered what my teachers thought of me. I'd be bashful and shy around them, but they were SO IMPORTANT. I mean, I had to impress them. Not academically, I already could do that without much effort. But as a person. I had to stand out to them. And I would think about what if they saw me do that, or heard me say this. I always wanted them to come see me play softball, or soccer. Whatever it was I was doing. I wanted them to be proud of me specifically. Mrs. Okamura, Ms. Ross, Ms. Huckabay, Ms. Eick. And I always felt weird about it. Everyone else thought Mr. Harris was oh so cute, and I didn't pay much attention. Middle school was similar except that it was people instead of teachers, for the most part. The science teacher though, and the math teacher, to a point. Celebrities too. Not how you'd think. Not Megan Fox, that bitch is stupid. More like Tina Fey. I mean.
I can't be sure. But.
Probably.

Dear Crazies,

I get asked a lot. I don't know, basically.

I had things to write. I can't remember.




Oh! Okay. It hurts. I mean, I don't like it. I overthink things. So it seems like something really bad is going on when it's really not. And then the next day it's a dull feeling, and I wonder why I was upset, why I could hardly sleep the night before. And then something else happens.
That's what happens when you get involved in things. It would be really easy to just sit in my room and NOT one day. You know.

I thought that when I said 'you know?' someone would say 'YES. I know.'
Oh well.

And then. I feel helpful at the moment. So.

RULE NUMBER ONE.
This is the most important rule.

NEVER break the fourth wall. Never.
If you do, they will take you away.

It's called Emergency Credit Retrieval. And it sucks ass.

I hear this:
Patience, shadow
We're on your side, there's no sides to see
Little shadow, Little shadow
Will you follow me?
Harden shadow, hold on tight, to your darkened key
Little shadow, little shadow.
To the night.

The conversation went like this:
Me: Next year is going to be so weird. Like, so weird.
Her: Haha, babies grew up.
Me: Yeah, nice metaphor. Actually.
Her: Oh you know it.
Me:
... What the fuck are we going to do?

That, my friend, is what you call an oh-shit moment. They don't feel nice.

NOW. I'm still waiting for the lightbulb. The "OH!"
And then finally, maybe, I could just cry and then really leave it. It will be a good thing.

In vain I have struggled.

My feelings will not be repressed.

It's not a big thing to ask for  the yelling to just not happen one day. It's not difficult. It really isn't.
Do or do not. There is no try.
Yelling is a strain. It should be hard to tell someone to shut the hell up. You should have to muster the nerve and the anger to do it. Or to call someone a little shit. Or to scream at the top of your lungs. They'll call the cops if you do that.

You think I'm talking about him. No. You too. It's half your fault. And I'm sure you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth.
Observing has taught me many things.
Something I learned this weekend: You cannot push. You cannot. They will push back. And maybe they'll be quiet, maybe they'll stop the behavior for a little while, but they don't want to listen to you. In their head, they push back. And then you've already lost. He said to remember for when we're all parents. I will.

At camp, I learned that my whole mindset is okay to have.
Remember freshman year? You struggled. People said go do this, act like that. Change this and this and this, get those things right, go rehearse this scene, learn that scale. ten-HUT! Everyone around you snaps to attention, and you stand there like
.......... what?

What is the first thing you did?
Probably cried and said fuck a lot. After that.
You looked around and found someone who was doing it right. And you watched. When they ran, you ran. When they listened, you listened. What ever it was, you did it too. Because it was right.
And after that year, with the seniors gone. The first day back, it was different. Don't say it wasn't. The entire feeling had been altered because of all the empty spaces. You still watched, but they weren't there. 
As a freshman, one is entitled to that. It's expected.
Sophomore year it's a little less excusable.

But that's what happened. Basically. I had a midlife crisis. On a high school level.
I redefined and learned to accept a lot of shit. Because I had to.
And you have to know, every single one of you, that they watch. Even when you don't think so. It's not a creepy thing, it's more like finding how to scrape by any way you can, and those people over there are sprinting through the course so we better watch and find out how they do it so we can stop tripping and falling flat on our faces.
I looked around and saw a few of you who had obviously made it through, and were doing okay. Thriving, even. So I watched.

I'm just a kid.
I have trouble. It's only natural.

BUT. I am not blind.
I will never ever get drunk. I will never ever try any form of illegal substance. That's just how it is. Social drinking is weak. Serious drinking is dangerous. I take risks, but not like that. Never.
And I realized that a relationship where one person is in awe of the other is not healthy. It just isn't.

There are a lot of why nots. I know.
I just admit it now, is the difference.

I never asked for a listener before. I was scared.
One more thing from camp. Stats.
Communication is achieved through three things. Words, tone, and then non-verbal messages.
Words are a whole 7%.
So you understand only 7% of what I'm trying to say. Even worse, I only understand 7% of what you're saying.
So what the fuck are we doing?

First of all. LGDLP.
I liked our talk. It was good. I felt better.
I am ready. Let's.

Okay. I am incredibly amused at this circumstance. The attention is going to reach my head some time if I can stop being so damn scared.

I can't say it differently. I mean.
I think for a long time about my words. I have to be in exactly the right mood to write the way I actually feel.

Oh boy. You're going to let me struggle for the first few weeks. You are. I understand that. I was angry because
The point is that it was Home and Garden.
Or whatever the hell that line is.
Are you happy?


It's not that simple.
Anyway. The whole thing was that I have no large sum of money to give up all at once. But I can obtain and spend in small increments. OF COURSE.
But. It's good to struggle. I'll be better for it.
Basically, bring it on.

And then. Okay. I thought it was going to be really dumb. The way it was presented to us made it look like a waste of time. But honestly...?
I can do it. I can lead. I can.
We talked about fear.


... SHIRTS!

Because I'm a lady, that's why.

You're not a lady, you're just a sister!

haha.
Okay. So I don't roll that way. When I say innocent little flower, I mean it. I'm the girl who's never been kissed. And I don't mind. I like it that way. You shouldn't have to ask.

Well. Not little. Curves. I have them. That's how it works. I'm built strong. No problem. I like it.

And. I have made a decision. I value my dignity more than any skill set I could have gained by giving it up.

And then. I think best in the molasses midnight hours. Really. Nothing can touch me then. I don't know why that is.

Also. I'm writing again.

BUT. Outside of the story, the words take a long time. Be patient. How do you gracefully accept what you've asked for and offer the same in return without changing the dynamic of the request?

This has meaning, I decided.

Realizing who you are and finding out what you're made of are two very different things.


I'm good enough. I'm good enough. I'm good enough. I know it. I am good enough.
I don't know why this happened. Because the thing is, I fucking love being single.
Not to be discouraging or anything. I just really like it. In that way, I'm still a baby. And little kids enjoy everything more. They see with the biggest eyes and everything is full of wonder and everything is new and striking and meaningful. It's not like that once you've experience.
I like being little.

Okay. These were important. I didn't realize it as I wrote them, but they were important.

April 30, 2010
I'm not just anyone you know. I'm special. I'm important. I have to be. Or I have to think so. I need the comfort.


May 6, 2010
I feel irrational today.
I can't find words to explain how this song
I can't even
I really just
I don't
Ya. Finishing sentences isn't working right now.

May 7, 2010
Do crazy people wonder if they're crazy? Or is the diagnosis based on the lack of realization or refusal to accept their own insanity?

May 9, 2010
I looked in the mirror just now. I saw this girl and thought
Wow. She's really pretty.
It was a good feeling.



(
And then other realizations.
THE MONOTONE.  Okay, I see it now. I understand.
And that other thing. Not exclusion like haha let's hurt her. I see the why.
I see.

I'm okay. I'm smiling right now. I'm okay.
)


July 2, 2010
Dear You,
Closure. It's a sweet thing.
Three was never open.
Two is a process. It's good now.
One.
It's okay, I decided. With help. I mean, I was going to get there. Eventually. But it would have hurt more. And it'd be different. But
it's okay. I think it really is.

Move on.
There you go.
Okay.
Sophomore year is done. I have yet to graduate from being a young fool, but I'm getting there. I will get there. No tears. Not even at graduation. I'll be okay. I will.

I love.

Love,


keira     e.  jett