Wishful
A friend of mine told me he hoped I’d die yesterday.
To put you in context, I’d posted a journal on SheezyArt, ranting a little about how my French teacher had called early in the morning to tell my parents I had to retake the written production I didn’t do. And, before you all jump to conclusions, I didn’t to the production because I had an appointement at the hospital, and then at the clinic. And I didn’t get the chance to talk to the teacher ever since, so there’s really no way I could’ve done it before yesterday.
And so he just comes along and posts this lovely comment:
|
|||||||
You can just feel the love, oozing out of it.
I printed it out, made my mom read it, felt blank for a while, fed the paper to my dog… And then I talked with Nats. It felt REALLY good, just because she opened up to me. It was… relieving. Talking about her problems–mostly listening to them, though, because I think that’s what she needed most of all–just soothed everything. It’s like I stopped thinking about everything and focused just on her.
And it’s so strange how I understand her.
And it’s so strange how I feel that I am to her what Jay is to me.
It’s a nice feeling knowing I’m not alone, less and less, every day.
So Jey wants me to die. Uh, okay. I laughed for ten or fifteen minutes yesterday. And I felt like I was going insane; it was the sweetest feeling I think I’ve ever felt. I was at the computer, listening to my songs, and having so many ideas rushing through my brain, so many incohesive thoughts, so many words and letters and thoughts all jumbled together. It was so… Thrilling, enthralling. I typed and I typed and wound up with several poems and short narrative sequences. I felt so free and open and clear afterwards.
If that’s being insane, I wouldn’t mind going crazy every now and then!
So, yeah.
I think I’ll stay alive just to spite him.
that seem good?
Strandier
Left
Right
Left
Right
Walk little soldier
Follow the ranks
Like you always have
Sorry
I won’t be following this time
I learned long ago
That following you means to lose myself
Forgetting who I am and betraying myself
Sorry if I don’t want to be like you are
Sorry if I can’t be what you are
Sorry if I want things to change
Sorry if I’m not that little angel
Who’s all you want her to be
I’m sorry that I have my own thoughts
I’m sorry you can’t understand them
I’m sorry you can’t like me
And take me for all the weirdness that I am
If you love me
Won’t you let me know?
If you hate me
Just move on in the ranks
I’ll be there and look onto
Your disappearing faces
I don’t know you anymore
Happy life, stranger.
Farewell, dear stranger.
