dethroned

One last time I went to see luna. Without tucker this time

I rang her doorbell and her dad eyed me up and down before turning and screaming her name.
She wasn’t angry anymore, she just had this resigned air

We sat on the front steps looking at the late afternoon sunshine until at last she said
“I’m leaving.”

I stared at her through my hair, trying to decipher that.

“my parents…insisted on a drug test. They started asking these questions about my friends, my schoolwork, boys. I’ve done the one thing they’ve found inexcusable.”

“I know,” I said softly. “did they want to…what. Get you help?”

“My god” she said. “I don’t need help.”

I let that hang. “Luna. Your friendships are breaking down. You lash out. You party. It affects your schoolwork. You stopped caring about your future. And I genuinely think you might be a chameleon.”

“A chameleon?”

“who are you, Luna? You change your personality for fun. I can’t find you in all the bells and whistles.”

“I hate you, jenny.” She said, but without heat. I shrugged.

There was nothing left to say. We had a shared past, but it was suddenly clear she wasn’t interested in more. With badly disguised longing she asked about Tucker.

She’s enrolled in some boarding school for troubled teen girls. Reform school, except you’re not supposed to call it that anymore. It’s in upstate New York, with the cows and the horses and Republicans. She’ll probably hate it there. She’ll probably start an uprising. Or she’ll become a sheep.

Is this what a fall looks like? I thought I’d feel better about it. Where’s my closure?

[picture from here.]

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same old, same old

"Unique" by Larson

Theres nothing I can say that hasnt been said before.
So why should I bother to say anything anymore.
And what point would there be for me to talk.
I've tread only roads that others have walked.
I've grown so much and thought so many thoughts.
Though they are profound, there's a website thats not.
I've laughed at my own jokes that I knew were so clever.
Turns out they were in a movie thats been out forever.
I made up my own song once. I thought it was great.
Then I turned on the radio and I guess I was too late.
I cant even be miserable without getting in line.
Everyone's got reasons and they're all better than mine.
In a world filled with people that feel so alone,
why cant I have a thought of my own.
I know what you you're thinking its been done before.
So I'll present you my ass and show you the door.

--http://www.poemofquotes.com/members/other-poetry/unique


It's probably wrong to relate to such obvious rhyming and such a...simplistic poem, but I can't afford to be snobby.

Maybe our difference comes in that we're aware of it? A girl can hope.

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this again

[fine print: When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate each other.]


it's 4 AM and i just can't let go of it. shouldn't a zebra be striking? but they all just blend together...

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somnambulant

Sometimes in the hallway at school, I find myself counting sheep to stay awake. 1, 2, 3 girls with identical side ponytails and JanSport backpacks. 3, 5, 7, 10 boys in letter jackets with their last names embroidered over the heart. In case they forget how to spell their names. Or if the homicide investigators need to identify the body. There are the reasonably popular girls with no guy friends—trendy but conservative tops and jean shorts—6, 7, 8 of them. No one really sticks out and grabs my attention. If I knew all the gossip, I’d probably be busy drawing invisible relationship maps and chains and timelines, but as it is, they’re faceless to me.

Maybe that’s just how high school is. Hand everyone the same homework and expect the “right” answer. Expect them to adhere to a down-to-the-minute class schedule with military precision. Until the bell rings you will listen to this lecture and takes notes as though your very life is dependent on the Defenestration of Prague but the second the bell sounds you will get the hell out and forget all about it in favor of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. Make them wait in line for food and the pencil sharpener. Have them meet Presidential Fitness standards in PE. After a while, the conformity becomes natural. Like prison. They just become another jumpsuit.

We all move through class and halls and conversations on auto-pilot. It’s terribly clichéd of me, but we’re all sleepwalking through our world. My days are lethargic and full of dazedness and apathetic teachers. In most classes, I play that game where I slowwwly drift asleep and my head slowwwly droops until snap! My neck jerks and I wake up and repeat the process.

So at night I stay up and feel powerful and innovative and full of raw ability if only I could reach and scratch my itch, get out there in the world and do something and ease my yearning. I can’t sleep so I stay up and doze erratically while my mind churns and plugs away. And I can blame my continued captivity on my intellectual restrictions. Once college comes around I’ll need a new excuse, like everyone else.

But for now, I’m full of sleeping potential.

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