Etc.

I’m writing this on a downstairs computer of the school library, hoping Ms. Engel, the librarian, doesn’t see me. I don’t know if she realizes that I already turned in my overdue book, and the librarians are rather frightening.

It’s the last day of school before finals week, or rather, the last day of school before finals week just ended. I should be waiting out in front of the school for my car, but I’m not. I guess that some things have to be done in order of their importance. Right now, writing this down is what matters.

Now is the time to write this down. Now is the best time because I need to write it down. Or type it up. Isn’t that funny, how it’s up for typing and down for writing? Anyway.

Eighth grade is almost over. Eighth grade, the year when everything changed. This year, I shaved my head. My yearbook is full of autographs from people saying how they love the look. What they mean is that they just like me. They love me. I am loved. I am loved. Not merely respected, not simply feared, loved. I am loved.

I like to watch how people look at me with this short punk hair, and then I like to watch their hard face change when I smile. It makes me laugh. I think that laughter is the sacrament. I think that if I didn’t have a sense of humor I’d be dead by now. I think that’s funny.

I am so glad this year happened. I am so glad. Everything that happened this year needed to happen, needed to happen so badly that if they hadn’t happened I would have been something else, somebody else. I don’t want to be somebody else. Nothing that happened this year was wasted. None of it. The Shakespeare, the auditions, the endless work, the endless laziness, the dreaming, the screaming, the misery. It all meant something. It was all to a purpose. I remember screaming in the night, screaming in letters, in papers, in diaries, “What does it mean? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”

I have the answer now. I am the answer.

I was the answer all along.

There is a reason that things happen to people. The reason is themselves. I am. And I know why. And I know how I got here. And I know where I’m going next. You want to know? You want to come too? I’m going somewhere completely new. You just follow all the golden arrows.

I shan’t be gone long – you come too.

Quote of the Day

"Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today
I wish that man would go away."

-Hugh Means


Your good friend,

Sidhe Todd