#2 Addictive.
I have a love hate relationship with this thing before school.
It distracts me in class,
And just you in general.
And I get this stupid grin...
And people wonder why.
My little secret.
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I found this at the back of my notebook.
Among... some very troubling things...
But they're for another time.
Another blog.
22/10/10
9pm - Period 1- Friday
(Sitting in the sunlight with Richelle. The sky is half overcast, and there's tears on the sleeve of her jumper, and glittering her eyelashes. Mine? Mine are hidden deep away, choked up in my throat.
Right now is a time of comfort. She wouldn't want me to cry. Besides, we're sitting in a nice garden and the sun is warm on my back. In any other circumstance, this place would be the most beautiful in the school.)
Its funny how things work, how right before something happens you notice a change. You just feel it.
Today when we were supposed to start tribes I knew something was different. James wasn't at school and none of the teachers had said "hi" to me this morning.
Yesterday was a cruel, eerie and prophetic torture of what was in store for us today. (Ethan's sick mind play)
Miss Haynes couldn't bring herself to do it. I knew instantly as she choked up.
The principle announced it instead.
Beverly Alves had passed.
Jack stormed out of the classroom. I wanted to follow him but i knew it was pointless. I wasn't close enough to him...
Half the class is now in a terrible state.
Richelle and I are the only seniors present and out of us, i'm the only one not crying yet...
We were sent outside with tissues after Mr. McNeil's touching speech. He cried. Beverly wasn't in any pain. She said: "Don't worry about it. Oh, lets just get on with it!"
She was grateful. Told us not to worry. Thought we were the friendliest school she'd taught.
I knew she was sick.
I could tell.
I felt it yesterday she wouldn't have long.
Yesterday she died... At 4pm.
I just hoped i would be able to see her in Hollywood before that...
I need to go to the funeral.
Maybe Miss will take me if its not in town.
I loved her "Fuck it" attitude and how she was so down to earth, lovely lady.
Her favorite move was Bad Santa. She was 59 years old.
She let jarrod have his phone in form.
Memories. Make me smile.
Her wry sense of humor.
She's at peace now. I'm not sad.
I'm grieving, but not miserable.
I'm glad she had a good attitude about it.
Everyone faces this time in life. Its her time now.
All my problems at home,
All that stress and depression?
Its gone now.
I feel a gloomy content and respect for the events of today.
This is her day, not mine.
I shall honor it, and my problems are gone.
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Written conversation.
Not feeling any better yet? ):
Sort of... But it hurts Dean. I don't wanna go home.
I know it hurts... Stay here. We won't do anything today, we can stay here in this little place and nobody will care. You don't want to go into her classrooms do you?
No... Its like her presence is there if you know what I mean?
Wanna talk about this a little?
Umm.. I don't know. Later.
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Black polish chipped.
As I'm reading this.
Yours was the same
Through the wind, the rain...
Last week...
Yesterday,
Was a different day.
Yet still the same.
An eerie disposition.
As life play its game.
I knew this was coming.
I could feel it.
I could tell...
Silence is deceotion
Acceptance.
My own problems...
They have fell.
Cometh no misery
No depression yet.
A side effect perhaps?
Aware, of being prepared?
No. Never,
That never works.
Its the way I deal
Because of why it doesn't kill.
There is no way that's right to grieve
But the ones who laugh and snicker,
I'd prefer them red'rimmed eyes.
To watch them cry and writhe.
Tomorrow or maybe next week.
I'll let go of all of this.
The shadow I cradle now in my arms
Release... Release... Release...
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This water the gardener is pouring.
The nature and the sun surrounding?
Mother. The Earth is forgiving our sadness and woe.
Comfort.
It heals us.
It's why I prefer her over most humans...
The bird that sat on the wall and sand through the window to us in her class?
The cold running through me now,
Goosebumps.
Cleansing,
The wind cleansing and refreshing,
The warmth and heat of the sunshine.
All of it.
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That was my memoirs for that morning.
I dealt with paper, and I see beauty in this writing because it's such raw stuff.
I'll leave that with you.
~"The one who claims his heartlessness, is the one who is breaking hardest."~
-Dean A. I.
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