Practice

I never ever ever thought I would think this of you, but there it is: I hate you. You know who you are and you know what you did. I know you don't think that what you did was that bad, but it really was. It was that bad and worse. You made a complete fool out of me.

I knew you could be ambivalent, but now I know that you believe your actions have no consequences. So here's the consequence of what you did: I am not your friend. And you lost any future friendship we might have had. And it's really a shame, because I was your biggest advocate, I had your back, I believed you were a decent human being. Fuck you, for proving me wrong.

Ok, now that I've practiced, I might actually work up the nerve to tell you this in person.

Run Away, Bunny

When I was in 5th grade, two of my best friends and I started planning to run away. And by plan I mean we Planned. I had a notebook completely devoted to the idea. We would call each other every night, making lists.

Oh, the Lists! We were going to start squirreling away supplies, a little at a time so nothing would be missed. We had a route mapped so that we would still be able to go to school. Because school was very important, and our parents would be Very Mad if we missed any school. But it never occurred to us that we might be missed. That anybody would notice that we were gone.

Nearly everyone I know has thought about running away, and it's funny that this idea didn't occur to me until I was 10 rather than 5. And I'm sure it had everything to do with growing up, and not wanting to.

And then Junior High happened. We were all so shell shocked by the transition, and determined to Be More Mature, that we put away all those silly little elementary school ideas. And so The Notebook was put on a shelf in the back of the closet.

And now I'm 30, and that notebook is pulling at me something fierce. Because I have to be an adult, and I really don't want to.

When my roommate told me he needed to move out to help a good friend of his get back on her feet, it stressed me out. But I had No Idea how that stress would turn into Stress, would turn into STRESS, would turn into S-T-R-E-S-S. Would cause my hands to twitch so badly that I had to start a knitting project in order to protect the kitties from being rubbed so much they turned into those weird hairless cats. Or that not being able to say what I really really needed to say to the one person I needed to say it to, caused the exasperation to leave my body with such force, causing the magnetic poles to shift, resulting in the Universe spinning off it's axis, and we all fell over dead.

So yeah, blame me. I'm the reason we have to move to Mars. You know, after we're done being dead.