Saturday, September 4, 2004

   The great manifesto
ok, I'm gonna write a story thing, just short chapters every now and again, that tell about random things I think about at school. not a post, because this is what would go on in head world. my head world.

|I stood this morning outside the school, beneath the library, watching the insane masses pass me by. I glared, making them keep their distance. Until my friends arrived, I smiled, happy to see them, they unhappy to see me. can't blame them, I'm a bitch. I lowered my eyes and let the sorrow sink in. said my goodbyes and headed off to class. As the teacher talked, my mind began to wander, and soon I was standing before my history class, cursing the people at the top of my lungs, all thanks to the guy who pesters me about my cutting and sniffing. I was screaming, "YOu think you know so much about me? you think you're so friendly? You know nothing, and I blame you all for my pointless existance!"

they stared at me, shocked that the quiet girl would say such words so loud. not another word spoken, I reached for my razor, held it poised above my flesh, my arm, and sank it in, deep, maybe a half inch, and pulled from my elbow to the wrist. fast, I didn't feel it right away. I closed my eyes, feeling the friendly familiar flinch as the wound released the blood so with-held from site. It seeped up slowly, then spilled over the fault lines in my flesh. turned my arm the fairest crimson color, wet, and cool after an angry morning, an akward morning, cool, and bloody, and the class just sat there a-gape. I felt the blood billow and drip to the floor. then all went black and I heard myself answering a sheet of unknown questions I didn't care about.

at lunch, the lesbian decided to follow me, to the friends. I sent another friend to fetch them, lest the lesbian bitch know of the caves, the secret meeting place to escape defense of the most useless people, so we could talk crap about crazy creeps thinking they own the world just because they are sophmores.

I felt a little better, not like the ibruprofen overdosing feeling in chemistry. stand in front of my unfriendly peers, and coyly ask what would happen if one were to consume an entire new bottle of ibruprofen all at once in one gulp. would there be forced vomitiing? how long would one have to wait for death, my old lover?

get alone in the back, in the dark, so happy, with the hated, the one I hate, sit there working, and while I work, I need another paper, get up to find it. front of the room, my shy face feverishly searches for the thing I needed. the girl, if can so be called, she is a bitch. she told me, "they're in the back, they're in the back. why are you so lame, why are you so stupid? how can you hate Yellowcard, anyway? they rock! they're soo-oo punk."

My mouth opened, murmuring a quiet, calm reply, but back in head world, I begin to form my true desires. I, cool, so cool as ice, I say, "perhaps I am lame, but at least I do not flaunt my body, sticking my hip so far out to the side, looking like I have a developmental disability. At least, unlike you, my mouth is clean, and I possess the ability to keep it closed as I speak, as I eat, so I do not walk around with it open, allowing bugs to fly inside, and careless, stupid words to fly out. and at least I am lacking the ability to chew my gum like a cow chews its cud, and possess the ability to keep my mouth closed from whining loudly, like a petulant child seeking attention. Luckily, I know how to respect, and consider that I know I am worthless. Thankfully, I know I am not punk, because, unlike you, I wear a black wristband and preppy studded belt. You bitch, I fucking hate you, I fucking hope you rot in fucking hell, go there and die,a nd never bother me again, you fucking stupid ass wanna be ugly zit faced BITCH ASS CRACK WHORE, I cannot stand you, I will destroy you, you will not survive, I hope you suffer. I want to make you cry, admit you are not so great, that you are garbage, make you behave human, not like an ascending goddess from hell, sent to miserate my life. I HATE YOU AMANDA, you SKINNY BITCH."

then, after my still incomplete hate filled rant, I would stretch out my hand, grab her short ugly skinny neck, lift her off the ground. Squeeze, squeeze hard, until she turned an ugly shade of blue, then purple, then gray of death. I'd sink my nails in and rip the chords from her throat, she'd never speak a stupid word again.

Head world cheered and angered me, still to this moment, but I merely said, "At least I'm not like some stuck up people in this world. Don't you think I could be 1,000 times worse?"

I smirked, then sat back down, the world unaware of me, and myself so aware of it. I watched from the outside, looking in, cheering all along, when Amanda understood what I'd said. If only she had, that I always dream of smashing her head in with a chair, or cursing her to death.

All these evil thoughts and wishes, so impure and devil-driven, I know that I will never achieve them. killing is wrong, hating is wrong, and I must control myself. So while all you might see is a calm little girl, underneath I am raging hatred. and evil.

then I sit alone, laughing to myself. I want to cry, in head world, I stand up, and in all caps, I write in chalk on the chalk board, "I'M SORRY, I BEG FOR FORGIVENESS." then I sit down, and wait for the reactions of this anathema world.|

weird, I know., but as I stared to write, the words just came. sorry

thank you!
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