I don't know what I am getting myself into here, especially because I don't know how many people are still reading, nor do I know how many people will be interested in the other side of this story. But, I was burning to write it from a different perspective! So...enjoy a preview of the next installment of Puberty Is One *BEEP* Of A Mess...from Carissa Smith's point of view! This story skips the first chapter of the first installment because I covered that portion in one of my epilogue pieces. To read it technically starting from chapter one, read 'I won't wear dresses, but I'll cut my hair'!
She has a very active mind. Anger takes the reigns, usually. But sometimes, each of us will get the chance to monitor dream duty. God, they're so abstract...but they convey so much.
Joy is in awe, staring at the screen. Her blue Mohawk is perfectly spiked- the yellow plaid skater dress complimenting her loosely tied black docs in just the right way.
This dream is my favorite one by far, it's a recurring one...she'll have it at least three times a month. It's like...Carissa is watching herself. That figure is standing at a cliff's edge. And she will raise her arms to her sides. The eyes blink slowly three times...until they finally shut. And she allows her body to fall back, right off of that cliffs edge. It's easily a six hundred foot drop. Maybe more. What should be an utterly terrifying experience? It's anything but that. It's peaceful and quiet. It's...euphoric. She can feel the cold air rushing past her as she continues to drop. She never makes a sound. She just... S. And always, just before her body can hit the ground- with only six inches between her body and said ground...she remains floating in place. Her eyes peer open. A single hand raises, reaching for something...but nothing is there. But it's in front of her...in waves- slowly but surely. It's the purpose of this dream. It represent H. Carissa is committing suicide in a morbidly beautiful way, because always, just before she can collapse against the unforgiving surface, without fail, she will remain floating in mid air. Carissa Smith? She doesn't fear death. She embraces the inevitability of it. And she lives every day as if it's her last...with so much passion, Anger should be thanked for that.
The lights are no longer dim in headquarters, and the first emotion to emerge is, of course, Anger. She's curvy, a shaved head, and a pair of black ripped jeans along with a white shirt with a red plaid tie, "Morning, sweet thing, how was dream duty?"
She'll turn around in her seat, "'Ay, not too shabby. The cliff dream again."
"Kick ass, then she slept well. We got band practice after school, right?"
"Yup, she's showering, but her outfit's all picked out. And just as you requested, she's gonna' wear the jean vest again- she finished putting the last of her patches on it. Oh, and we have band practice after school at John's this time- not Crystal's so make sure we don't go to the wrong house.."
"Got it- YO! GET UP, ASSHOLES, WE'RE BURNIN' DAYLIGHT HERE!"
Fear is looking over her clipboard. A purple plaid vest covered in various patches. Though she'll argue her personal favorite one is the one that's attached to the right vest pocket 'fuck fear, just scream really loud'. Her black jeans are low cut, revealing prominent hips, though her body is fairly masculine, "Alright, so worst case scenarios for today: we get our period early, band practice is a bust, We aren't able to score tickets to see Half Moon Run, we don't make any friends at school, and last but certainly not least: cute girl from yesterday isn't gay and therefore we don't have a shot."
"Who- Riley?" Disgust will interject mid yawn, wearing her signature 80′s style ripped black t-shirt and green high-waisted shorts with a loosely buckled studded belt. Her hair is retro styled, bangs tied back with a green, twisted bandanna, "I dunno', she was pretty damn flustered talking to us yesterday. I'd say there's a pretty good chance she'd rather order the taco's from the Mexican food truck over the burrito's."
"But still, how the fuck we gonna' get the ball rolling? We hardly know her, and we only have two classes with her." It's not as if Fear doesn't want this to work out! It just seems like a gamble. And she's well aware that Carissa doesn't handle rejection well at all.
Sadness finally joins her co-emotions, she appears nothing but cynical with that messy short hair with that emo side bang and thick rimmed black glasses, "And let's not forget that it's hard to be gay at this age. Plus, it's even harder for other girls to be as sure as we are. Everyone's too fucking afraid of what others think." If she weren't too busy being nearly buried alive in her black leather jacket and over sized blue t-shirt and leather pants, everyone would be shutting her down real quick. But that's just it: she's not wrong, either.
Anger slams her fists against the controls, "Everyone chill the fuck out! We're just gonna' take this shit slow. There's no need to rush into things. We've got more important things to focus on. Like the fact that our first gig with the band is coming up. We're gonna' try and get little miss awkward crust punk to talk to Riley, but we gotta' keep calm and focused. And if this girl is gay and she ain't out, we don't pressure her. Mom wasn't okay with us at first. For all we know, she could have a really conservative family. And I swear to god, if you punks screw this up for Carissa, you're all gonna' be fired on the spot! Riley's a hot piece and we are NOT risking the chance to date her just because we don't know if shes gay. Got it?"
In unison they will all speak, "...G-Got it."