just one week

7:27 am, 0 period
I am so sick of people. I wish they'd all shut up, especially about yesterday. I swear to God if one more person asks me about yesterday (e.g. "how long did you go," "how does it feel to talk") I am going to snap. Poor Jaynee, I flipped out on her. Well, not really at her. She said "oh, you're talking today!" and I flipped more to myself, but her and Sayuri were there to hear. Of course I feel like a bitch, because like she told me after, I was just happy, I missed talking to you.

10:12 am, period 2
"Why are you always writing in your journal? Is it for school?"
No.
Aw, that's cute.

So Brad and Kristian decide to make up their own journal entry.

"Brad looks as if he's gaining weight. He's always dropping his pen. And I have to pick it up. Like an asshole."
Kristian, on the other hand, is amazing.
"The girl in front of me has poofy hair."
Wait, what?!
"Nicole.
Joe .. Joe is your father."

Erica and I got caught up some more during our free. We're way more alike than I thought. More than I'd expect.
"Did you cut yourself last night?"
Said as a joke, I know. We forgive you Jaynee. But the way we looked at each other in response to her comment, we knew.

1:00 pm, period 5
"Is it a struggle for you to stay alive everyday?"
I think I'm the only person that would've answered yes to that. Everyone that answered out loud said no.

A scavenger hunt, Cooke? Seriously?

My English class really makes me think. Well, not the class, really. More the things McGuirk says and the way he says them. It can be taken in almost any way. You can apply what he says to pretty much anything. The journal entries require so much serious thought, too. Ours today was "What do you want the future America to look like? What is your version of the american dream?"
(Edit: I meant to post my entry here, but I forgot my book in school.)

Another random poem, Cooke? Eh, I guess I'll work this one out.

Creative Writing:
Scavenger hunt.
1. Four words starting with T, D, R, G, found in a newspaper.
Transfers; details; record; gymnast.
2. Two things people do in the hallway.
Walking; talking.
3. A sentence overheard in the cafeteria.
Where are you going?
4. Three words you over hear teachers say as you pass the classroom.
Go; what; stuff.
5. The second number on a close friend's locker.
1.
6. The color of Mrs. Tuxill or Mr. Wichmann's shirt.
Blue.
7. Three things going on in the paintings on the walls.
Magic; playing music; sports.
8. Two words printed by the manufacturer of something in the bathroom.
Towels; pull.
9. Two words from any poster in the school.
Driving; stupid.
10. Something you see by the main entrance.
Door.

Assignment: Write a poem using all of those words.
My poem:
Details, details
Where are you going
Walking, talking
Close the door
Pulling me down again
Stupid mistakes and all that stuff
Transfer records
Another place to go
What I'd do to find that magic
Throw the towel in
Driving on, playing music
I'm not a gymnast
Don't make me play your sport
Feeling blue
Just one day
Only one day left

7:44 pm
Looking back at my poem, I realize how much it sucks. I mean, I knew that already, but now it's like, BAM, your poetry skills suck!

I get my license in ten months.
Ten months. That's all I have to last.
License, car, I'm gone.
I'm driving, and I'm never looking back.
I'm packing up what I need,
and leaving what I don't.
I'm driving, driving,
Don't care where I'm going,
I'm just driving.
I'll pull over on a sideroad
and sleep in my car if I have to.
But I'm gone, I mean it.
I'm so sorry, Ryan.
But I can't do this.
You won't need me,
you won't remember me.
They won't miss me,
you won't hear of me.
I'll miss you and your cousin like crazy.
But I can't live here.
I'll find you one day.
I can't live here.

imsotriggeredimsotriggeredimsotriggeredimsotriggeredimsotriggeredimsotriggeredimsotriggered.andidontknowwhy.andidontlikeit.

Vicky asked me about my journal, too, today.
"Do you write like, everyday?"
Yeah. It's become like a habit. I'm always either writing in this, or scribbling in the margins of my notebook or something. I'm just always writing. I can't help it.

10:21 pm
I should be taking a shower right now. But I'm too frustrated not to write this down.
aoivjwerog.
Didn't I get enough of his stupid fucking mind games seven months ago? Even one month ago!
Your fucking mind games. Can't you ever say anything fucking straight out?! You know that if you'd just tell me, I'd take you back in half a hearbeat. That's not even a question, it's a known fact. Stop with the songs. Stop with the away messages. JUST FUCKING TELL ME.
That's all I ask of you.
Seven months ago, all I asked was friendship.
That wasn't too much; you gave me more.
Three weeks ago, all I asked for was honesty.
That wasn't too much; you gave me just that.
Now, all I want is straight out truth.
Just tell me what you want to say.
Say what you need to say.
Isn't that what you always told me?
Just say what you need to say.
I'll listen. I promise.
And maybe, we can both be less confused.