pretty good year
my big brother is graduating tomorrow. school is ending on tuesday. we're going to montanna on monday. i'm turning seventeen this year. i can date, and wear makeup, and i don't have a curfew. sex isn't a secret word anymore. jack kerouac is replacing george, the rogue on my pedastal reserved for dreamy boys. i cry a lot, about almost anything. i organized a party for my geometry class with just an idea. i want so badly to be famous, still. my friends can drive--i can almost move out on my own. it makes me want to cry because i feel like the entire 17 years of my life has slipped away into a sequence of memories and words and flashes of color and bursts of music that intertwine themselves into this messy, seven dimensional canvas that seems to be my life. and i still don't really know who i am. i'm still very confused about a lot of things. i still enjoy using redundancies for emphasis. i have black sexy underwear. all this freedom seems to be getting to my head because it means i can do almost anything, and i don't have this security around me any more to keep me safe. my parents fight a lot. but i'm able to [more or less] remove myelf from it and i'm able to live my life as my own. i have my own life. that's strange enough. tomorrow is all cap and gown and bright flashing smiles and running onto the football field to say goodbye to this year and goodbye to this huge part of my life. junior year is over. i've made a lot of really good friends--really good friends. i'm slowly adapting myself and changing myself. there's a lot to work out, still. but i'm getting closer to being at peace with all of these semicolons and elipsies and strike throughs that are writing my life. because it's all happening. i'm happening. i can't find the right words to show you this. it's right here, right there and it's twisting and struggling to get out to try to make you understand. the kind that makes sal scream dig it and holden ache for someone who's real and me write poetry and take pictures and jump and shout.
sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in
lucy was pretty, your best friend agreed
well
still
pretty good year
sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in
lucy was pretty, your best friend agreed
well
still
pretty good year
posted by Ashley at
7:04 PM
4 Comments:
This is why I love you and why you will always be my best friend (for forever, no matter what, and every other cliche that is oh so 10 year old girl ish except it's you). Because you're brilliantly yourself, messy and real and all the contradictions and dichotomies that make you wonderfully truly alive. Plus, you make references to Salinger and Kerouac characters. I heart you, bestest friend. =)
that made me refall in love with you. i thought i was the only one getting retarded about growing up- crying to moms about never wanting to have to make decisions but to want to do it all on your own. i love you alot and i saw your brother graduate.
hey eff you man it's a freakin typo
who are you, anyways?
nah, you can stay, i suppose. =)
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