Add Me to Your Top Friends!

The following is a transcript of a conversation I overheard, explaining quite nicely why I hate everyone.

"Dude, so are we going to Kat's tonight?"
"Why would we be going to Kat's? I don't even know her."
"Because guy, she's having a sick party! With like, two or three 30s of PBR. The Captain's gonna be there. Oh and good ole Maryjane might be stopping by!"
"What? Who cares?"
"C'mon dude! It's a party!"
"Dude! First of all, we don't know them. Second of all, I don't party. Third of all, stealing beers from your dad's fridge does not make you a badass, or a drinker. And you don't even smoke."
"So what, guy? I've been friends with Kat on Facebook since I got the thing, and Kelly and Ari just added me the other day. They're all BFF and they'd all let me come."
"Like I said, you don't even drink or smoke. And you're not friends."
"But if we go, I bet I'd be added to their top friends, if you know what I mean."
"No, I don't know what you mean. I have no idea what you mean. And if that's supposed to be some kinda pun, or innuendo, about how you're going to 'get with them' ... I don't even want to talk to you anymore."
"Nah c'mon man. What do you think girls do at parties?"
"Well, they don't hook up with people like you. They don't let people like you come. Who do you think you are, that guy in Superbad?"
"You know what? I don't care what you say. I'm leaving Kat a comment, and ten bucks says she'll let me come."
"Deal."
"What? No, I don't mean that. No money. I mean, I bet she'll let me come. And if, no, WHEN, when I go.. you're not coming with me. And I'm gonna get so trashed man. Just you wait. Come tomorrow, I'll be number one on Kat's top friends. Aw yeah."

And While We're on the Subject, What Does Love Have to do with It?

Everything.

Is love enough?

I know that people change. I know that times change. I know that things change. I am not ignorant. I know people sometimes try to justify "changes for the worst" as growing up. I know that we all have to grow up. I know, we're not on the same level. Having similar long terms means nothing; long term is unachievable without a combination of short term. I cannot do this short term. In the long run, all these short terms are the long term. If none of the short terms are working, how does the long term work? Exactly.

The truth is, growing apart is hard. You see it happening and you try to fix it, when in reality, both parties know nothing can be fixed. I think the struggle at the end is what makes it toughest. I've had friendships end out of the blue. One day we're talking, the next we're not, and it's usually okay. You notice it, maybe become concerned, but mostly, in these situtations, it's okay. You might talk occasionally, but you both realize one (or both) of you has changed too much. You don't need it anymore. Neither of you can do anything for the other. It's the ones with the struggles that are so hard to lose. As the relationship is kindling, you both try to act like everything is okay. You call, you IM, you small talk. And both of you do this. You start to realize, this is all it is. Simple chat. Small talk. There's no substance anymore. You both still like each other, so you both try to make it work. But, it doesn't work. Nothing's changed between you two, but things aren't how they were. You've grown apart. You try to hold on, you have to let go. It's hard.

In relationships, I never liked the idea of taking a break. I've always seen it as a copout way of cheating on someone. Taking a break implies you plan to get back together. Yet, you're allowed to act single. In a way, you both know you're still together, or going to be soon, but everything that wasn't okay is now okay. A few months ago, one of my friends and I were having a chat about relationships and she told me that "if one of you ever brings up the idea of a break, do it. I think if so-and-so and I did that, we'd still be together." I couldn't understand why you need a break and why you need to stop "being official" just to spend some time apart. For one reason or another, the topic has been crossing my mind again a lot recently. Now when I think about it, I see it as the growing apart. The changes. One of the new Saves the Day songs, quite possibly my favorite on the CD, has a refrain of "bye bye baby our love can't save you, so bye bye baby" and since I heard it, I thought about it a lot. Sometimes, love isn't enough.

Back to the point, breaks. There's growing apart, there's changes, there's tension, but most importantly, there's love. And because of that love, you don't want to end things. Despite all the petty arguments and unnecessary drama, you still need them to be around. Despite how hurt you get, you think loving them justifies everything. Whether I agree or not, I won't say, but I will say that I understand this. Rather than an excusable cheating, a break is simply a test. Is the love enough? If it is, you return. By this point, both of you realize that something isn't working. In an ideal situation, the second party will understand that something is wrong and you had to figure out if it was worth trying to fix. Is love worth it. In many situations, a break will just cause anger. "If you know you love me, why would you have to do that?" etc. etc. I think, because I've seen situations similar to the latter so often, that's why I never liked breaks. They never fix anything. In actuality, someone just doesn't understand. Understanding is key.

And this can be applicable to cheating, too. Which is probably why I saw the two as so interchangeable. If you cheat on someone, and you know you messed up, it's because something was wrong. Maybe this wasn't your mind set going into it, but you needed the test. Is our love enough? Would I rather be seeing other people or should I try to get things fixed? And by cheating, you can find out what you want. If you get upset about it simply because you know you're not single, that's not good. But if you get upset because you can't stand hurting the other person and you know you still want them to be around, love wins. Is cheating justifiable? Maybe. Is "once a cheater always a cheater" true? Personally, I think no. Sometimes people need the mistake to know what they want. However, if you know this in advance, cheating isn't okay. People don't realize that they're testing their love. And of course, I'm not talking about all situations. Either way, if you know the problem, if you know you need the test, take the break. But above all, talk about it. A relationship cannot work without communication and trust. And if you avoid communication to break trust, it makes everything much more improbable of being fixable.

So the question remains. Is love enough of a reason to be together? What about a once loved? If things get to a point where you're falling out of love, or have fallen out of love, is it worth trying to get it back? Is it possible to get it back? Personally, I've always thought you can't hate someone unless you've loved them. Is staying together solely for love worth the risk of hatred (if nothing gets fixed)? I have so many questions.

Long Days and Longer Nights

"i would break down at your feet and beg forgiveness, plead with you.."

Two hundred twenty six miles one hundred seventy two minutes and a half a tank later, I'm still on 95, at least a half hour from home. It's been a long day. The radio isn't helping. I figured at this hour, there's gotta be some college station getting the shaft. Someone who will be able to give me what I want. Clear up my mind. Distract me a little bit. I need Elliott Smith, but I'm getting Robert. I need depressing, I'm getting depressed. Friday I was in love, and now it's not reciprocated. It's the thing you see on TV. The thing that I saw on TV, with you, and laughed at any guy who acts like that, but look who's laughing now, right?

It's the conversation that bothers me the most, I think. Every single word - every syllable - I have it all down. It's engraved in my mind and it's all I can hear. You. We can't act like this anymore. Me. I know. And then I paused. I was hoping you'd agree. You said nothing. Me. I know baby. And then I paused again, but a shorter pause. Me. It's gonna be okay. You. What is? Me. We are. We're gonna be okay. You. But we aren't. We can't be. How can we be okay if we act like this? I can't do this if this is okay. Things aren't okay. We're not okay. This isn't okay. And then I didn't say anything because it hit me the same time it hit you. I looked at you and saw that you understood, and you turned your head away in shame. Your word choice was perfect - we can't act like this. We can't act. Listen to us; we're so scripted and typical. Everything neither of us ever wanted to be. We're not made for acting, and I have no idea what we're doing wrong. Or what I did wrong. Or why me not knowing what was wrong was reason enough for you to get up and tell me to go. Or why you started crying when you told me we couldn't work. Or why you kissed me that last time as your tears rolled down my face. Or why you laughed, or something like it, and said "see, boys don't cry" and you walked away. Or why this song is still on the radio or why your tears are still rolling down my cheek or why I can't handle this. Everything reminds me of her, and that's what I need to hear.

There's nobody around. I notice the needle of the speedometer has passed ninety, and even that is too much. Every time we were in the car, you'd be the one noticing my speed. You were convinced it was dangerous, but I'm convinced that if the guy in front of me slams on his breaks while I'm changing the radio station, I'm gonna get banged up bad if I'm going 65 or 105 and it would take more than a speed limit to save me. It's been a long car ride. I never thought I'd miss you. I never thought I'd have to miss you. But even now, I know it's going to be worse. I know, you aren't going to be the only person I ever care about. You won't be the only person I ever love. It's hard being realistic, and it's hard being optimistic, and I know that I'm eventually going to move on. Right now, I can still remember everything about you. Everything we've ever experienced that wasn't worth talking about, it means something now. But baby, you weren't the first one to cause me to remember things. Yeah, I loved you. Yeah, I still do love you. But I've had less than loves associated with certain songs, or smells, or tastes - and I can hear those things. I smell those things. I taste those things. And I feel nothing more than the sense. That's when it's going to be worse. I don't want to forget you. I don't want the yellow apples to simply be the better ones. I don't want to break one of the prongs off a plastic fork and have it simply be a broken fork. I don't want to hear another Furby and simply think it's annoying. Because once I forget these things, once I can hear, feel, see, taste, smell these things, what will be left of you?

Maybe I took you for granted. I never meant to, but, when we constantly reassure each other that things will work no matter what - that even the biggest mistakes can be forgiven - what was I supposed to do? We were telling each other that no matter how many rights we wrong, it's okay. I won't leave if you won't leave. Now there's no one in the passenger seat. It's never the same as the beginning. We don't have to try to win each other's affection, especially if we know (we're told) it's always going to be there. It's been a long couple of days. I can't stop missing you. I don't want to forget you. If someone asks me about you, I don't want to tell him you're this nice, pretty blonde with hazel eyes that I spent many, many months loving. I don't want you to be a description. I don't want you to sound typical. We're not going to be friends, and I can accept that. But I can't accept being nothings. And I know it has to be one or the other. What am I supposed to do?

I suppose I can start by taking the next highway I can find, and tune into the next station I can get, and see where that leads me.. it's going to be a long night.

Delivering a Letter without a Stamp or Return Address

To: MY SON



Dear Connor,
They say leaving is the hardest part, but have they ever tried coming back? Leaving was easy..

You know me, but you don't know who I am. Tomorrow, I start work in Coventry. I've been wanting to tell you everything, the past two years I've been here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell your mother. Tell her I'm sorry. You won't understand any of this now, and maybe you won't keep it until you're older, but I have to do something. I have to say something before you forget who I am.

Connor, I met your mom through your Aunt Linda. She dated my roommate first year of college in PC. She told me I should meet your mom. This was before you were born. I shouldn't have said yes, Connor. I shouldn't have started dating her. I shouldn't have gotten myself into a relationship. That was my first mistake. A couple years later, she told me she was pregnant. We were going to have a son, and I asked if it was mine. She started to cry, ran out of the room, and I didn't get up to try to calm her. I didn't do anything. I didn't feel anything. I was making so many mistakes. The next thing I knew, I dropped out and got a job here in Lincoln. Before your mom moved here, I transferred to Bristol and was there for a few years.

I read all the papers Connor. I checked all the births, the deaths, everything. I wanted to know everything about people. I had to connect in some way. I had nothing of my own. Then, on February 21, I found a name I recognized. A Miss Angela Curry, giving birth to a Connor Nicholas on February 19 2001, coming in at 6 lbs 8 oz and 19 inches. This was in the Lincoln paper. Your mom got a place with your Aunt, her sister, and they were going to raise you. I see your Aunt sometimes, when I'm walking away, but I don't think she sees me. She tries, though. To find someone - something - never thinking it could be me. She's a good Aunt, Connor. A better father than I ever was. About twenty-six months ago, I was asked to come work in Lincoln again. I didn't have a choice. I was afraid I'd have to face you. Face your family. The first three months, I didn't. Then that guy quit, and I had a new route. Your route. I would be seeing you daily for the next two years and you wouldn't know. I would. From the first day, I saw my eyes in you. My jaw line. Your mother's lips. Her ears. Her hair color. My hair texture.

I often wondered if your mom wonders about me, or thinks about me at all, and when I saw you.. I got an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could she not think of me seeing you? You are a miniature me. The perfect hybrid of your mother and I. My first week, I felt sick. I didn't want to see you. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to see us.

I don't know if your mom ever finished school, but I didn't. Once I left, Connor, I lost everything. I suppose you couldn't say I lost it - it was mostly my own doing. I wanted to leave. I wanted to escape. A new state. A new coast. A new country. Something. But I couldn't bring myself to leave my son. My unborn son that would never know me. So I stuck around, with nothing, and I still can't figure out why. The truth is, you know the mailman, but you don't know your father. You talk to the mailman daily, but you've never talked to your father. Did you ever know that the mailman is supposed to be your father?

It's been about eight years since I've started making mistakes. Since I met your mother. And here I am, leaving again. Giving you this letter. Still making mistakes. I never meant to hurt your mom, Connor. I never meant for you to grow up without me. Just.. a son at age 20 wasn't part of my plan. I was going to school to be a civil engineer. I was a smart kid, but I didn't make smart decisions. I wanted to know you Connor. I wanted a lot of things and now I have none. If leaving is loving, I love you just as much as I loved your mother. I see so much of me in you. I'm sure you don't want to hear anything from your dad, but will you listen to your mailman? Be good to her, Connor. Stay in school, have a family of your own. Don't make the same mistakes that I did. I'm sorry to have been back in your life only to leave again. I used to be a good person, Connor. I really was. All I know how to do now is leave. So I mean this with all the love you're willing to accept; I hope I never get to see you or hurt you again. Goodbye Connor, and for your sake, I hope your new mailman is as friendly and willing to hear about your day as I was.

-Thomas Long; the mailman

Unexpected or Unwanted? Changes

I haven't seen my father in two and a half weeks, which is weird to me. Despite how much or how little I had seen him when he was around, there's still a void that won't be filled for another five and a half months, when he comes back. And I miss him and six months is far too long to wait to see someone you love.

Tonight I came home earlier than I intended to. I said okay, time to go, but instead of saying that I was kidding around, I got up and left. I had a lot on my mind, but when isn't that the case? So I get on 495 and turn on the heat because apparently a mid-August night requires the heat. And it was an annoying ride home because I had to turn it on and off numerous times because on was too hot and off was too cold. "Transatlanticism" was in the CD player, already starting midway through since it's been in there for days. The other day, however, track #10 got quite scratchy and loud and it sounded like my speakers were going to explode so I turned it off. Today, this drive, this CD was perfect for the weather. And then I got to track 10 again. We Looked Like Giants. I was casually listening at first, but as the song went on I felt more involved, I listened more closely. Then that second verse..

God damn the black night, with all its foul temptations
I've become what I always hated, when I was with you then

..that. Everything on my mind, it all just exploded. Right there. My eyes began to swell and I could feel tears, but they wouldn't fall. "I've become what I always hated when I was with you" and it's truth, or ex-truth, was all I could feel. A sort of guilt trying to destroy me, trying to convince me I was the same person I was the first time I heard this song.

In an attempt to distract myself, I looked up into the sky and saw the moon and tried to figure out where it was in relation to the earth and the sun. A half moon.. halfway between new and full. It had to be perpendicular to the sun and parallel with the earth. Or rather, lined up with the earth. Now, I began to wonder, is it approaching fullness or newness? And each time I looked it seemed a little blacker than glowing, so I went ahead and assumed it was turning into a new moon. However, I was incorrect. The right half was glowing, so it was growing full. Before long, the moon was hidden behind the clouds, or the trees, or the traffic, so I stopped thinking about it. By now, "Title and Registration" is playing and I began to think that some gloves may be enough for me to not need the heat on, but before I could continue that thought, Ben Gibbard reminds me that "I am waiting for something to go wrong" and all the thoughts come back at me, because it has reached the point. Something has gone wrong. And the whole time I'm narrating everything that's going on in my head - the outside, the inside, everything - and it makes the music seem quieter than it is.

Speaking of my head, there's something wrong with me. I'm fucked up. The other night - last night? - everything (yeah, it was last night) just started spinning. I got my nightly headache early, got dizzy, and continued reading hoping it would go away. It didn't. Everything was moving around. I have problems that I should probably see a doctor for, but won't.

Back to the car, back to that drive home, whilst narrating, I've decided I'll use this blog for blogging, simply, and not just writing stories and what-not. When I was nearly home, a car coming off the Bellingham exit cut me off and moved into the left lane because the middle lane was moving at a too-slow-75. I moved over into the right lane, having to get off in a minute anyway, and to my surprise the man who just cut me off slid in between two cars in the middle lane and cut me off - again! - got off at my exit, and then headed back towards Bellingham. I don't understand people, and that statement has nothing to do with the previous few sentences. School starts in just over a week and for once, I'm anxious to go back and would rather be there then have to continue this summer. And I'm not trying to say I've hated this summer, but it's completely opposite of what I'd expected - not even what I wanted - and overall, to be completely honest, I'm quite dissatisfied.

The Transformation of the X

"But you promise it's okay? You promise not to hurt me? I've told you - I'm a Christian, we're not supposed to do this stuff, but I love you. I want to make you happy."
"I promise baby. I love you too, and you know I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it.."
"I know. I just.. I just don't want to get hurt. I don't want you to leave me."
"Kristy, you know I'd never do that. Now come on, before I go soft. You want to see me happy, right?"

She nodded, and her silver bracelet with an engraved "WWJD" bead between the chains jingled as she sat back down on the couch next to her boyfriend, Jamie, and began to undo his belt buckle. Kristy had always been a late bloomer - whether it be learning things at school, hitting puberty, or sucking off her first boyfriend because she loved him. Sometimes things like that just happen. And sometimes, couples will break up the very next day, because he can get better than that. Because you can't even see her face down there, so why not choose someone with skill? Because promising love and forever is irritating when you can do without the extra work. Oh, and because despite your needs, your desires, you still have some sort of conscience and you still feel sort of bad corrupting the most innocent girl you know.

By around 3:30PM the next afternoon, Kristy still wasn't out of bed. She laid there wondering what she did wrong, just as any other innocent girl would. An experienced girl, however, would know better and know she did nothing, and move on. Five weeks isn't a long time. Certainly not worth mourning over. In fact, five weeks opens up opportunities. Opportunities like Jamie's friends. All the wrong opportunities, that despite knowing "she doesn't know what she's doing" want to learn through first hand experiences. Suddenly, a cell phone starts dancing around the end table, causing Kristy to finally arise, at 3:37PM.

"Hello?"
"Hey Kristy? It's Kayla. I heard you and Jamie broke up."
"He lied. Kayla, he told me he loved me."
"Go figure. He probably only wanted you for sex. At least you weren't as stupid as I was."
"You had sex with him?"
"Yeah, you didn't know? But everyone knows you'd never do shit, no offense, so whatever. But, I called because I wanna help you get over him."
"He told me he was a virgin.."
"Kristy, forget about him. He's trash. Come to Tim's with me tonight. We'll have fun."
"Who's gonna be there?"
"Oh god, I don't know. Carl, Nick, Chris.. Coleman? I think is his last name? Then Katie, Lissa, Ash. Mark. I don't know, a bunch of people."
"So it's a party. Are people gonna be drinking?"
"Haha. Don't worry about it, just come. Actually, you don't have a choice. I'll be over at like, sevenish. And I've already talked to Carl and Nick and they said Jamie won't be there. So be ready, it'll be a good time. See ya."

Kristy wasn't a party girl. She wasn't a party goer. She had grown up watching and experiencing alcohol ruin her perfect little family. It was mommy, daddy, and the two perfect children, growing up in the midwest, with the perfect little white house with the perfect little white picket fence. They had a perfect little dog and ate dinner every night at six-o-clock, together, as a family. But this was all the past. When Mark wasn't in Salem, Oregon for college, he stayed in Bellevue with his girlfriend. One night after the shouts had turned to bruises, the perfect little daddy was stuck with a decision to make. He could either get help and keep his family, or live alone and keep his beer. Well, Kristy hasn't talked to her father in almost six years and can only assume he's still out west somewhere - she wouldn't know, being stuck in a Pennsylvanian suburb. She had told herself she wouldn't drink, but maybe that would have to change.

Maybe the way her father was, it didn't have to be like that. And she admit, sometimes it helped him calm down. Sometimes, it seemed like a relief. An answer. And her friends always seemed to have a good time. If there were any regrets, it didn't stop anyone. It didn't stop anything. Maybe she was simply denying herself of something harmless, for silly reasons. She could still be a good girl, because hey, even Jesus turned water into wine, right?

A few hours later, Kayla showed up. And before long they were all at Tim's house. There was music, there was a good amount of people, there was alcohol. There was some sort of card game going on in one of the other rooms, with a few people outside of the circle impatiently waiting "to set up their game of 'ruit." This was everything Kristy expected. She decided to sit in the living room with Kayla, Nick, Mike, and Kelly, to greet and be greeted. A few hellos, a few what's been going ons, and a few introductions. Mike, who was Tim's best friend, had been over nearly all day and though only sevenish, he was already far beyond gone.

"Dude, I've been drinking since like, two. And we made a ton of jello shots, if any of you ladies would like. There's orange and red and, they taste, like good, and it'll only take a few to get you drunk. And then we're all good. Haaa."
Kristy, a rather large fan of jello, was quite intrigued.
"Jello shots?"
"Oh yeah. They're great. But if you don't drink.. well, I can show you a jello shot."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means, you should get down on your knees and I'll show you a jello shot."

Reminded only of Jamie, Kristy ran off into the kitchen, followed by Kayla, leaving behind a very confused Mike. A typical innocent girl would not run away, but would tell Mike that he was rude. However, despite the crude comment, Mike was the innocent one. Because nobody would expect Kristy to do something like that. Nobody would expect Kristy to be here. And besides, he was past the point of drunk hours ago; any offense was not his fault.

Kayla decided the best way to help Kristy now was to talk to Jamie herself. She got out her phone.

"Jamie? It's Kayla. I'm with Kristy right now. And fuck you. Why did you have to tell her you loved her?"
"What? I did love her. Until her dome sucked. Then I didn't love her anymore."
"Jamie, you're such an asshole. You wouldn't know love if it fucked you."

And the conversation ended abruptly, and Jamie wondered if that was a reminder. Or maybe an accusation. Either way, until one of the girls had more practice and could be better, but not enough practice that he would be accused of "doing a bunch of sluts", he didn't need them and despite what Kayla wanted in the past and what Kristy wants now, they didn't need him either.

Carl met the girls in the kitchen and offered to play bartender. A cup of anything. Something that'll get me fucked up, and fast. And no, Kristy never drank before, but she was over that. She was ready for a change, she needed that change, and something inside of her hoped that she wouldn't remember that change in the morning. She lives in a generation without morals and despite how strong you are, despite what you believe, you'll cave in some day, at some point. And it might be the wrong day, and it might be the wrong point, and you might get yourself into something you don't want to ever be around, but it's too late. It might be a slow descent, it might be too fast, and however it happens, it happens and that's all there is to it. You'll lose your sense of right and wrong, or maybe just start to ignore it. Maybe your life will turn around and maybe you'll want nothing more than to go back to how things were. But there's a line that you cross that maybe you can reach again, but you can never get back over. Your old interests will bore you and your new interests never would have crossed your mind before. All that is in the past now. Innocence lost; there's no way back. You'll see too much, you'll feel too much, you'll do too much. You'll want too much and forget what you need. And no, no one ever regrets these changes. Just every now and then, you remember how things used to be, and you don't want to change anything now, but sometimes, every now and then, you miss it. But you move on because ten years, fifteen years, twenty years - however long it takes - isn't worth mourning over, and any experienced person knows that.

To Begin Again

It's July 30th, and tomorrow's not August. I never learned the months song that everybody sings to me if I ask how many days are in a particular month, so if I'm wondering when no one's around, I make it up. Thirty days has September, April, June and November.. and well, that's all I need to know. And I always know. It's like when I have to figure out something in alphabetical order, I have to sing the whole thing out, "A" until whichever letter I'm looking for. It's something you know, but feel the need to sing anyway. Maybe that's why I try not to ask people how many days are in such-and-such a month. Singing is annoying. Well, no, singing is fine. But most of the time, if I ask something like that, it's because I don't want to think and I want a quick answer. I don't want you to sing me a song you learned when you were four or five, because by the time you answer my question, I've already figured it out myself and moved on.

August weather, July whatever, 80° plus weather with too much humidity, is also annoying. All I want to do is sit down in my room, relax, and think. The next thing I know, I'm sweating and dehydrated, but when I reach around for one of the three open bottles of Poland Spring on my desk, they're all empty and I can't recall ever drinking them. Two young boys cross my mind, and they're boys I've never met and will never meet. The one from the Verizon commercial and the one who asks his dad about his test - the Cheerio's commercial. Especially the latter, they seem so innocent. Innocence crosses my mind and that's all it does - it crosses. Everything else in my mind is inappropriate; too mature. I wonder how innocent the kids on the commerical are. How exposed they are. And this is all in my mind because I can't figure out how this lady got my cell number. Linda? Maybe Linda. She called, about a modeling and acting free informational meeting in Boston this weekend. I'm not a model. I don't act. I don't remember filling anything out about either job. She mentions the fact that I'm a minor, reminds me that I'd need adults with me, and mentions money. Any lack of interest seems irrelevant when you can get paid to do nothing. And my mind goes back to those inappropriate thoughts. All I'm trying to do is think of ideas; I want to write again. I need something to work with. And all I can come up with is a bunch of one-liners.

I look down at my legs and they're covered with these red, sometimes painful, scabs and I feel like I have leprosy or some sort of disease that overly scratched and shaved over mosquito bites can't give you. Just beyond the view of my peripheral vision, I can almost see a water bottle that has a few good sips left. I make a full turn, only to decide it's not worth getting up for. Past years' English classes cross my mind after entering the period, reminding me not to end sentences with for, but what can you do. Next to that water bottle is Ender's Game, which I restarted reading last night, and I wonder how I'm ever going to get back into writing if I don't even give myself time to read. I wonder how I'm ever going to get back into writing if I have the internet; complete with distractions, and a keyboard; complete with a backspace and a delete key.