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.