.girlpiece.
Don’t hurt peoples feelings…but what if they deserve it?; no one
deserves
that. Who decides? Who put you in charge? Who thought of authority
anyway?
does it exist? Does anything exist? WHO CARES, honestly? Aren’t there
more
important things to worry about…babies dying, war, starvation …should I
wear
the pink shirt or the blue shirt?; I know its the same expletive shirt!
I
really care about people, not that you can tell; do something
constructive…draw a picture…I have no markers…watch t.v. ... I have no
cable,
its a blur… talk on the phone… that I can do…bravo bravo…a talent…write
something…something creative… I HAVE NO IMAGINATION… yes you do,
everyone
does?… isn’t it a proven fact; I might have once had an imagination
….where
did it go??? I can’t seem to find it…I honestly think its dissolved…
evaporated…its not there…one can’t just loose her imagination;
actually…..you
try writing a DBQ, and RRP, studying for your math test, doing 40 math
problems, reading a Greek tragedy, cleaning your room, begging for your
allowance, having a social life, talking, relaxing, breathing, eating,
drinking, going to the bathroom, not having time to even sleep, you try
staying up until two in the morning and waking up at 6:30 for a
week…THEN you
can maybe help me find my imagination. . . well I dream don’t I…NOT TO
MY
KNOWLEDGE… I’m no Irving Welsh here, I’m no Wallie Lamb, no John
Irving,
Freud, Tolstoy, Gogol, or even that woman who wrote all those
baby-sitter
club books … I’ve read books by every one of them, you’d think some of
that
creativity would have rubbed off… but not since I was ten have I
remembered a
single dream… I’ve lost my creativity… BUT I know what a tenor is, a
vehicle,
I know the names of the great lakes, I KNOW how to write a thesis
statement…I
can take perfect notes with little bubbles… I can even taken pictures
but…
can I get up on stage and do something totally creative…no…I AM TOO
Tired for
creativity…I am too tired to write another essay, to do another RERUN,
to try
and get a job… to baby sit… I can hardly open my eyes… I can’t see or
feel
anything…and my birthday’s in a month, do you want to know what I want
Sleep…no presents, no money, no party, but a nice long map—MAP I DONT
WANT A
MAP, obviously that was a Freudian slip; pertaining to what…geography…I
meant
NAP. I thought this would be over…its never over…that’s not
insinuating any
depression, honestly I may be cynical, sarcastic, neurotic, but I’m not
even
sad… I’m ECSTATIC…thrilled…delighted…exhilarated… extremely happy …
overjoyed… rapturous…elated…ravished…entranced…overwhelmed…I cheat and
use a
thesaurus… (only for that line I swear to you, I’ve been privately
educated
for the last 12 years…14 with nursery school , believe me, I can figure
out
my own way to say happy…the first three were mine) anyway …so, I put
the word
ecstatic into my thesaurus, and Bill Gates gives me
overwhelmed…OVERWHELMED…
with what? HOMEWORK…SCHOOLWORK… BLOCK SCHEDULING…Tutoring…might I
add…I’m
not doing that for my college applications…who the hell am I trying to
kid…this is my "inner monologue" and I’m being condescending to
whom…myself…now I’m going to study…talk on the phone…complain out loud
