THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
So today is officially my last day of 10th Grade.
And solid food. You know, not like I'm bitter or anything.
Is that weird? I've had this fucking thing since I was in eighth grade. I mean, Jesus. Way to go on the abstract committment there, Lizz.
It was a kind of weird ending to the year, I'll definitely give you that. Me and French and Becca and Jordan went into to Crockett after talking to the Voldermort Woman about my lack of locker situation. So, like any normal person would do to their sophomore English teacher, we asked him to predict our futures.
It went down something like this:
Becca got a "You're bubbly and cute and positive and will never have a bad day because you just ain't wired like that, kid" (Nonexistant accents provided by me) "But you're gonna have trouble with men because you're so all over the place and can't give anyone a straight target from two feet away."
French got a "You're gonna get real far" (Now he's a cowboy) (Also provided by me) "Because you're really smart enough blah blah blah Rule the World blah blah But FOR THE LOVE OF GOD ESCAPE YOUR MOTHER".
Jordan got a "You don't quite know what you want, so just go with what feels right"
I, however, got something more akin to this "Be a writer or I'll shoot you. Just get your act together and stop fucking around." (I didn't make that part up, actually) (Yes, yes, his words!) "You're extremely persuasive but you're not gonna get anywhere unless you get it together."
So, uh...
How's that for a fun send-off?
This year went by very... Strangely. I'll give it that. And really, really fucking fast. Like, you know, I just stepped into that school and now I've only got two years left. It's a weird thing.
So now I'm going to go get the dreaded mouth Ooh Let's Cut You Open! surgery tomorrow and won't be able to eat any food for... Um... Awhile.
Not exactly the diet I had in mind.
So I think I'm just going to tell everyone I'm an inedia and only need the body and blood of Christ to fill me so, in that case, no, thank you though, that quiche looks lovely.
It'll be great. Really.
Summer always feels weird. I guess we'll just do what we can. Like we always do.