summer vacation, day 1


It is now the first day of summer vacation, and yet I still feel like there is a weight on my shoulders- like it hasn’t yet sunk in that there isn’t a pop quiz in AP Lit ready to spring at me and ruin my grades further or that a few certain people at school no longer have the opportunity to startle and aggravate me for their own entertainment or that I won’t have to wake up in self-hating despair at six in the morning anymore.

Prairie Flower is in a week. That’s also when the seniors have their graduation ceremony, and also when I was supposed to perform with the rest of the band- but my band teacher said not to worry about making it up if I couldn’t go. That makes two pieces of music I guess I’ll have to remember to return on the first day of school.

If I survive that long. Which I probably will, but you never know. Maybe I’ll decide to go into journalism, get a job at a repair shop as a stepping stone into sysadmin-hood, and be coerced by a nihilist rogue into running away to a commune. And then I’ll have to explain to fully-grown adults that violence only antagonizes people, which will result in someone actively planning my assassination and my brother intervening to bring me and the ethereal man-child who followed me out of the commune to safety.

And then I’ll hide for a while before being killed anyway, which will almost trigger a war.

Sometimes I feel bad for Vey and the rewrite I’m forcing her to go through. And sometimes I reconsider my life decisions.



My room has been darkening for some hours and I’ve only noticed it now. But nothing can quite capture the feeling of dying sunlight on somebody else’s windowsill, hitting the half-dead fish surrounded by waters just as murky as your own intentions. Not to mention those of the strangers around you- constantly fiddling with a small purse, trying to find the best place to safeguard it from pickpockets without disturbing the gracious hosts or yourself.


It had been eight months since I had last slept in that bed, unless my memory is playing tricks upon me again. And in that eight months, the obsessions had neither ceased nor waned- just changed their subjects, looking for another cheap thrill that would not have any result on the world.


But corrupted alphabets have to end somewhere, unfounded fears put to rest and resurrected anew in other languages- tongues doing double duty, triple, tea bubbles and hasty words dissolving, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter. A hit or miss event; mostly miss, something always amiss.

it’s okay if you don’t remember


I’m not even sure myself anymore. There are too many boxes in my room for me to think of much of anything, too many papers left undone in my folder, too many weeks of school left until early release for the summer and I can focus on finding myself again. I seem to have run off for somewhere a little more hopeful, a little less desolate. Have you seen me?

the secrets we keep inside


Life is getting better, I suppose. It’s a bit hard to believe that in twelve more days, I will say goodbye to my house in what practically is the middle of the night and spend the whole day taking the ACT only to be rewarded with an empty room- in fact, it might be earlier, as good old Grandma will probably take us in for the last few nights while my bed gets shipped off somewhere.

For those of you wondering, Me Before You is mostly done- it’s a working copy as I type this, but a few more added chapters were necessary to flesh out some otherwise bare parts. The ending is also a bit weak… I’ll probably take the long weekend to fix it.

Just twelve more days, and then this whole ordeal will be over, and maybe then I’ll finally get some friends.



I now stand near the peak of a mountain I have spent a good three months climbing, hoping to an unnamed power that my walking stick doesn’t give out when I can see the prize at the top of the hill- a golden respite, a break from the stress and a smooth ride into the next major phase of my life.

I can’t tell if it terrifies me or soothes me that in twenty-four hours, this will all be over, that I will have four days to rediscover myself and be the person I hoped of being when I first entered this school. Maybe the time for first impressions is over, and I didn’t disappoint myself, but I certainly didn’t woo anybody over.

Maybe the sun will finally come out, and my fingers can thaw and renew a creation melded in the depths of winter.