Worked until 7.15 tonight. The batteries on my CD player died on the way home. It was okay; I was only playing Catatonia anyway. They're cute, but if they cut out in the middle of a song, it's not going to kill me.
Came home. Noticed a man urinating on my friend Sarah's car on Oak Street. Considered follwing him home, and/or confronting him. Decided against it. Somebody brazen enough to piss on Sarah's car isn't going to take kindly to a 120-pound weakling yelling at him. Sorry Sarah.
Six letters in the mailbox. All for me. Four bills, a bank statement, and a bank receipt announcing that they'd miscalculated my balance the last time I cashed a check -- I have a grand fifty cents more than they told me I had. Whoop-dee-fucking-do.
There's a table inside the apartment building for packages and big letters that won't fit inside the mailbox. I check it as religiously as I check the outside mailbox. Usually, it's just porn-magazines for the guy downstairs on the other side of the building, but sometimes I have a neat penpal who sends me a big letter or something... And there's always that chance that Evergreen might send me a nice big letter...
And wouldn't you know it.... A LETTER FROM EVERGREEN! A large one......
Oh gahd, I want to go to college, I want to leave Binghamton, I want out of Burger King, I want a fucking LIFE, PLEASE LET IT BE GOOD NEWS...
I picked up that letter. I held it. I hugged it. I tried not to cry. I tried not to scream. I tried not to giggle. Ohhhh, I've been waiting for this letter for SO FUCKING LONG........
I looked down at the letter. It was addressed to SOMEONE FUCKING ELSE. The girl downstairs. The FUCKING GIRL DOWNSTAIRS. It was from the Department of Graduate Studies, Evergreen State College, Olympia, Washington, 98505......
When the fuck will it be MY turn?
I want my fucking letter...
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
FUCK THE MAIL SERVICE! Fuck the whole fucking world, I want my fucking letter, I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER
Put the Evergreen letter THAT WASN'T MINE back down on the table. Walked upstairs to my apartment. Commenced to throw shit. Found a roll of surgical tape in the living room. Threw it at the wall as hard as I possibly could. Threw my shoes. Threw some pens. I'm too responsible and level-headed to throw mugs and ashtrays and things that could break. Too fucking bad, because I'd really like to destroy something. I DESPERATELY need to destroy something.
Put on the loudest, ugliest, angriest music I own, which is not nearly ugly enough or angry enough. Is this the angriest I can come up with: Filter's "Title of Record"? Man, how lame. I want death metal, fuck it all. I want music that cuts things open and makes them bleed. I want music that breaks glass and throws ashtrays.
I want music that sends surges of anger through everybody on this goddamned BLOCK. I want to go downstairs and PUMMEL the girl that got the letter *I* should have gotten. I want to hurt things. I REALLY want to hurt things.
When will it be MY fucking turn? Everybody I know is living a life they can at least tolerate. Everybody I know who wants to go to college is IN college. Everybody I know who wants a job has one that they don't hate. Everybody else but FUCKING ME. WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO BE LAST? Why won't they just send me my damned letter?
[Patience is not my virtue.]
~Helena*