The Day the World Turned Blue

Part One: Fluorescent Lighting
My obsession with the Trailer Teachers continues. Sitting in Mr. Flood's class and wondering just how miserable he is, and how happy he pretends to be. Trying to convince myself that I won't end up with a beer belly, teaching kids who couldn't care less about being financially literate. 
I am not Keith Flood. I will not be Keith Flood.
Laughing at Mr. Vawdrey's geekiest jokes. 
Reminding myself that graduation is coming. 

I created my utopia today and it was just Matthew Gray Gubler in space.

The walls of this school won't crumble when I'm gone. 
The teachers won't quit in my honor.
But maybe someone will remember me once in a while. 
I'm hidden in the new design of the school newspaper and my name is probably still scratched into a desk somewhere. 
Maybe they'll say "One time there was a senior in my sophomore PE class and she knocked someone down in dodge ball, then through a ball at their face." Or maybe Mr. Nelson will use me as an example.
They'll remember the girl who was afraid of football.

I'd be fine with that.

But I'd also be fine with being forgotten.
Left in the dust. Shaking and swearing for a few minutes. Pulling myself together.
Walking to the airport and boarding a plane to New York City. Because Addy and I were supposed to go together. And I never made our lunch date.

Part Two: Dim Lighting

Fictitious Book Depression.
I'd rather be reading. Traveling to a world where things move at the speed of light, and people use the word "Ho" to say hello sometimes. And when I'm forced to function like a normal human being in normal human life I feel like screaming. For Libo and for Miro and for Bean. 

Teach me how to breathe again. My lungs are turning black as my skin gets paler.

But pale skin and black hair look nice with lipstick, so I let my lungs turn to ash.

Part Three: Red Lighting

You're a vandal, you are. You'd be a nice addition to the Breakfast Club and I envy you for that.

At least I get to love you. Love you in every way there is to be loved.
In the secret way. Telling each other how damn scared we are. How no one can ever know how much we cry.
In the cliché way. Cuddling and winking and calling each other babe. 
In our way. Knowing that the end of this love is impossible, but it will probably happen anyway.
In time. 
Dying for each other. 

In our way. Escaping everything and hiding away for hours.
Time stops in our room. Just us and a red light bulb, showing the world that for once the rules don't apply. We are invincible. 

Loving you is living. 
And when we walked outside the whole world had turned blue.
-m

"Clean up on isle 3"

It seems like the loud speakers aren't working. Because no one is coming with a mop. And we all just keep slipping.

"Clean up on isle 3"

I'm getting torn in half, here. And no one dares come sew me up. 
My bite is a hell of a lot worse than my bark. 

"Clean up on isle 3?"

At this point I'm all out of words. The blood has drained from my fingertips and all they do these days is twitch.
 Really I just want to talk about Ender's Game and my PE class. Because they matter for some reason.

 I'm a little bit afraid of my inability to stop thinking about the trailer teachers, and how pathetic their lives are. Sitting in semi-dark rooms and laughing at semi-funny jokes. Presenting power point presentations that they don't care about and quietly bad mouthing their wives. I think they're lying whenever they smile.

"Clean up...isle 3"

I never meant to make my mom cry like that. I never meant to hurt anyone. God, forgive me. I don't know how I got here. And even if I wanted to leave I can't. 

I'll be fine. Just don't leave me alone in the flourescent lights. They make my skin look green, and no one else will love me but you.

Welcome home, to isle 3.
Take your shoes off at the door, please.

-M