Lucky Pierre

Absurdity, as it turns out, reigns.

There's nothing quite like hearing a rumor about you that smacks you in the face. Something so ridiculous, you initially laugh over the impossibility of it.

Then your friends don't stop laughing, and panic sets in. How on earth do they believe this? They nod their heads and tell you that they know its not true, but you know they look at you differently. You know they are wondering "what if?.."

It's been difficult enough for me these past four years. I'm different in thought and deed many times. Constantly having to stay on the defensive wears a soul down. So many possible friendships have not come about because extreme versions of my personality always seem to reach different ears through those that don't like something different.

This is an entirely different ballgame. Freak has been added to the list of grievances.

And no one will bother to get to know me and realize they could not have been farther from the truth.

I tried to confront them the first time a ridiculous rumor flew by my ears. Turns out that sticking up for yourself and trying to find out who is causing sharp eyes and quick words behind your back is unheard of. Is it really that crazy to force the malicious to fess up?

Four years of this should be enough. I don't think I can or want to take this for another set. More and more I think the university would be just that.

I am not being naive. Humankind is based on competition, and ruining the chances for friendship of your rivals seemed to be ingrained. Whispers will follow me wherever I go. They follow all of us.

But perhaps somewhere else, people might care to get to know me before they write me off as extreme, or a freak, or any jumble of vicious syllables that comes streaming out of wry grins.

I'm just so sick of it. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I believed what they did and didn't feel a need to live this life. Ignorance is bliss, they say.

But are they happy? Where will these mouths be in 10 years? sneaking around the office? Do they tear me apart because they aren't happy with what they have created for themselves?

These rumors might end in high school, but the unhappy souls who create them might drift have to live on them for the rest of their lives.

And that makes me feel a lot better about it all.

In Spite of Ourselves

Something seems to be astir.

Canon has given me free reign once again to irritate those with my lens. Driving back with Mr. All Around today, I snapped a photo of him at the stoplight. Something happens when you absently take a photo and realise it has captured a moment.

Life in that car seemed so carefree. Life subsisted on paper pirate hats and high school play auditions. Tonight, on a break from the barrage of English essays forcefully being ripped from my fingertips, I switched on the silver machine to review the day. That picture stopped me with a grin.

I sometimes feel like I'm wondering through the halls of middle school. It's such a lighthearted and warm connection with All Around. Many days I find myself holding on to him as I laugh my head off.

I find myself much more carefree, although I'll admit that I'm always slightly paranoid that All Around will call it off.

However, when I look at moments like a paper hatted grin, Life seems to take care of itself.

Jacob's Ladder

Economics can be christened as the psychology of money. It also holds a special spot as the trigger on the roulette wheel facing me. Assignments mixed in with countless garments and expectations seem to be rising with the sun each morning that drags me out of bed with the jingle of the coyote's collar.

My safety net arrived the other day in the form of a large envelope from a nearby university. I should be more pleased, but I know that it is the last place on earth I would care to exist in for the next four years. Whispers from the wiser and older thrum through eardrums with suggestions of its caliber, but no one is fooling the fool here.

The doctor asked if I cared to knock the little white pill up to two. I told her I could cope without the extra milligrams. To what extent does coping become inadequate, however? When functioning well hangs in midair?

As desolate and exiling and seemingly minuscule as college of the Atlantic portrays itself to be, more and more I find myself being drawn to it. Why? I shall tell you here, but never in person.

I want to get away from this existence. As much comfort as it lends me, the constant need to compete and conform to others academic standards strangles me and leaves me here.

Maine might just be the sole place at the moment where I can completely focus on myself, since nothing else exists there. I won't have any sills telling my friends to stay away from the liberal bitch. Any Cash's making me regret every footstep into the woods.

Not everything seems to be falling apart, however. I have been holding onto the cracks of the walls for years now. When I get a chance to relax and enjoy myself, life finds itself on a much cheerier track with friends and experiences.

Mr. All Around falls into that ipodic inhalation that life takes between melodic breaths outward.

I look forward to a seemingly endless ride down a seamless strip of asphalt with such an acquaintance.

Nothing beats a long car ride with no need to arrive.