[Editor's note: I hate typed letters. But I'll include the last page of the rough draft for you to show you why I typed.]
Jason -
I am writing poetry in my journal and looking at the bookmark which is cut up magazine words stuck together with duct tape, and I think about what I left in the trunk of your car, and I couldn't even drive, then, but I can, now.
I am in the 15 passenger van, a white monstrosity on the highway that hardly gets better gas mileage than if we would have brought two vehicles of slightly smaller size. We would have had more room in which to cram all of our shit, then. Audrey and I both packed one backpack and one small dufflebag each. Mom brought/bought so much crap that she, Audrey, and I couldn't carry it. We had to get a porter and tip him ten dollars.
Our Girl Scout troop never should have gone on a 7 day cruise. By the third day, we were at each other's throats. I didn't have very much fun at all, which is hard to do on a cruise. There is a girl in our troop who goes out of her way to ruin everything. She succeeded multiple times on this vacatoin. The terrible part was that I couldn't get away from everyone. In order to save money on insurance, Girl Scout Council uses the smae rules for Senior scouts (my age) that they do for Daisies (4-7 year olds) on trips, and Daisies are required to travel in packs of at least three at all times. Being with 2 other people for a week straight, no matter who those two other peopel are, is oging to be hellish, particularly when you have to take them to the restroom with you. Oh, the joys of letting other people hear you pee. At least the casinos in Vegas play some sort of elevator music in their bathrooms.
Ugh.
Mexico was great, though. The culture there! The people! I fucking hate America. Land of the free, my ass. Land of the cold and heartless, land of the loners. Those people are so free. I want to be poor throughout my entire life. If I happen to land a job that pays, I'll become a philanthropist and give it all away. I'll retire in the jungle, my only expense will be my sattelite internet connection so I can email my manuscripts to the publisher.
I got a 1440 on my SAT. Better than my dad. It's just another number, another label. I feel bad for doing so well. I wanted/aimed for anything over 1300. I did better than my friends, and some of them studied very hard.
I'm thinking about moving out. There is a guy in with whom I could live.
[Editor's note: That's actually the proper way to say that.]
He's older than me. Old enough not to tell you how old he is. He has a good job, the hours he wants. He lives a half hour bus ride from work in a small apartment with offwhite walls and tan carpet.He has a computer desk, a chair, a mattress, and a television set. The bedroom is empty. His life is dull. When we met, he didn't ask me how old I was. I told him later, because I thought he would be angry. He asked me to move in with him. I told him that I don't ever want to have sex again in my entire life. He said that it wasn't for sex. I told him that I don't fall in love with boys. He said that it wasn't for love. I am thinking about beginning my poetic, artistic, musical life as a freeloader. I have an all right job, I'm just not getting enough hours right now. By the time I move out, I will be. If I don't have to pay rent, maybe I cna afford whatever scholarships don't pay for and car insurance. I could even get a student load or two, if I needed it. I'll sell my soul to go to college. I think that college will be my salvation.
When I graduate college, Dad is going to give me about $20,000. I'll pay off my loans, then, buy a used car, put a down payment on a condo. Then I'll become the crazy old lady with tons of cats, and maybe I'll even adopt a kid or two. The old kids, though, teenagers who no one wants to deal with.
But that is forever from now. I just need to finish high school and buy a car before I move out. I need to keep my job, unless I find a better one.
That's my life right now. Taylor and I (we went to prom together) broke up about a month ago. I was pretty torn up, but it made me realize that I need to focus on myself for a while. I don't need to be subjecting myself onto other people. Relationships are out of hte question. I work, do poetry stuff, dread going to band camp, which starts in a few weeks. Doing a lot of not htinking, which makes me feel like I'm getting along with the rest of the population for the first tiem in my life. No one really wants to know anyone else. Alll that people want is surface level. That's what I've been giving them, lately.
So write to me, will you? If I ever scrape up enough extra cash to buy a plane ticket, I'll visit. Don't worry, I'll probably give you about a week's warning. Ha ha.
- fallen
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