How? What? Geez, there are people as weird as me. Maybe I'm normal and
everyone else is the crazy ones. Have you noticed that having something
that you bought online in the mail arrive is more satisfying that if you
bought it in a store? Damn. Before I started doing this, (or rather, before
I got reviews) I didn't feel real. I guess.praise makes me like this? MAD
magazine is not funny. I don't see how people think it is. (I can hear
people closing out of this fic in disgust.)
Tabitha had managed to regain her ignorance. She barely remembered the life-changing, heart-wrenching, and perspective-changing talks she had with what's-his-name last night. She went to school in a good mood, full of confidence.
Lance was in her first period class. She suddenly wanted death.
She hated him. There was a flare of heat across her face; she lit up with anger. Lance didn't seem any different than normal. He always seemed smug and silent, but lately his presence was all it took to make Tabitha bubble over. Queasiness settled a little below her stomach. Was this real anger? He was the same; so the change was all in her.
Lance paid her no mind, as if she weren't there. Like he did before the shower incident. There was regression in the story line, Tabitha could feel it. They spent the first part of class in silence, sitting in the back of the room, both appearing moody and rebellious. There was a break where partners were to -oh, shut up, it's another plot device. Expect a lot of those.
"Are you thinking about it?" he didn't look at her.
"It?" She replied.
"Flocking." Smugness was replaced with melancholy, but he still seemed cool.
"No. It doesn't exist. People just hang out with their friends."
"It's more that that. They require the flocking; they need it. Without it, they feel left out when they really aren't." His eyes never left the front of the room. "It's a lie we tried to make true."
Tabitha looked at him. For the first time, she felt a shiver all around her. Her heart ached for something unnamed. Lance looked like he didn't care.
"I ." She began, but found nothing to relate with herself. She tried to begin again, but he raised his hand. The teacher excused him to the bathroom. He left, Tabitha sat there feeling stupid and hurting. She knew what she had to do.
The flocking is the lie all of us believe in. The sheep are lost without each other. How dare someone try to shatter all of this, try to show only one of us, to isolate them once they know the truth, never to return to lovely stupidity. How could one or two stand against the herds of sheep and cattle and tell them it's silly? Why would he do this just for one?
Tabitha knew what she had to do. She walked uncomfortably down the hallway, normal catlike motions jerky and foolish. Her weapon glinted silver in the hall lights.
He was in the bathroom, staring in the mirror. There was some expression on his face, but it was too late for him to be repenting. He saw her, and took a step back in surprise. She advanced, swinging the scissors. She bent his head back, his eyes opened with surprise. No blood spilt to the floor, she was good. She let go, he stood up straight.
"What are we gonna do?" She looked at the floor. "We can't undo all of the flocking."
He brushed his shoulders off. The remains of his mullet fell to the floor. He stared in amazement at his socially acceptable hair. He looked similar, just with short in the back. He laughed.
"Was this what was annoying you?" He pointed to the back of his head.
"Sort of." She smiled. They both started laughing. "But still, what do we do?"
"Whatever we can." He looked at her. Her heart was laced with melancholy and excitement. There was a happy feeling and a sad feeling all around her, crushing certain organs.
"Are you okay?" he stepped closer. She looked up. She knew.
"Yeah." There were so many things she could do and she wanted so much to do. It hurt so much.
"Let's go back to class." Was all she got out. He smiled.
They did leave the bathroom, Tabitha's heart beat so fast, but she
managed to say it.
"We-we have to do this." She looked down at the floor. The scissors
lay among his old hair. "Can-can we...do it...together?" She glanced
up under her bangs. He didn't understand what she was saying. Before
she knew what she was doing, she grabbed his hand. She didn't know
what to do with it. She just held it. He got the drift. For some
reason, they both looked at his strands of hair on the tile floor.
They laughed.
I'm 13 years old. Should I be preaching about love when I have had
almost no experience in it? Should any of us preach about love? About
acceptance? What have any of us to speak for? Why do we try to say
these things when we really know how worthless it is? We all try to
find some type of deep thought to make us feel like we have some sort
of meaning. Too often we misconceive tragedy as deep thought and
meaning, so depression and sadness are seen as complexity. What have
any of us to say that is not a lie?
Y'know, I really wanted to have some sort of juicy, cheesy kiss scene in this, and I can't say I know why. Ugh. "Kiss" and "cheese" should never be in the same sentence.
Tabitha had managed to regain her ignorance. She barely remembered the life-changing, heart-wrenching, and perspective-changing talks she had with what's-his-name last night. She went to school in a good mood, full of confidence.
Lance was in her first period class. She suddenly wanted death.
She hated him. There was a flare of heat across her face; she lit up with anger. Lance didn't seem any different than normal. He always seemed smug and silent, but lately his presence was all it took to make Tabitha bubble over. Queasiness settled a little below her stomach. Was this real anger? He was the same; so the change was all in her.
Lance paid her no mind, as if she weren't there. Like he did before the shower incident. There was regression in the story line, Tabitha could feel it. They spent the first part of class in silence, sitting in the back of the room, both appearing moody and rebellious. There was a break where partners were to -oh, shut up, it's another plot device. Expect a lot of those.
"Are you thinking about it?" he didn't look at her.
"It?" She replied.
"Flocking." Smugness was replaced with melancholy, but he still seemed cool.
"No. It doesn't exist. People just hang out with their friends."
"It's more that that. They require the flocking; they need it. Without it, they feel left out when they really aren't." His eyes never left the front of the room. "It's a lie we tried to make true."
Tabitha looked at him. For the first time, she felt a shiver all around her. Her heart ached for something unnamed. Lance looked like he didn't care.
"I ." She began, but found nothing to relate with herself. She tried to begin again, but he raised his hand. The teacher excused him to the bathroom. He left, Tabitha sat there feeling stupid and hurting. She knew what she had to do.
The flocking is the lie all of us believe in. The sheep are lost without each other. How dare someone try to shatter all of this, try to show only one of us, to isolate them once they know the truth, never to return to lovely stupidity. How could one or two stand against the herds of sheep and cattle and tell them it's silly? Why would he do this just for one?
Tabitha knew what she had to do. She walked uncomfortably down the hallway, normal catlike motions jerky and foolish. Her weapon glinted silver in the hall lights.
He was in the bathroom, staring in the mirror. There was some expression on his face, but it was too late for him to be repenting. He saw her, and took a step back in surprise. She advanced, swinging the scissors. She bent his head back, his eyes opened with surprise. No blood spilt to the floor, she was good. She let go, he stood up straight.
"What are we gonna do?" She looked at the floor. "We can't undo all of the flocking."
He brushed his shoulders off. The remains of his mullet fell to the floor. He stared in amazement at his socially acceptable hair. He looked similar, just with short in the back. He laughed.
"Was this what was annoying you?" He pointed to the back of his head.
"Sort of." She smiled. They both started laughing. "But still, what do we do?"
"Whatever we can." He looked at her. Her heart was laced with melancholy and excitement. There was a happy feeling and a sad feeling all around her, crushing certain organs.
"Are you okay?" he stepped closer. She looked up. She knew.
"Yeah." There were so many things she could do and she wanted so much to do. It hurt so much.
"Let's go back to class." Was all she got out. He smiled.
They did leave the bathroom, Tabitha's heart beat so fast, but she
managed to say it.
"We-we have to do this." She looked down at the floor. The scissors
lay among his old hair. "Can-can we...do it...together?" She glanced
up under her bangs. He didn't understand what she was saying. Before
she knew what she was doing, she grabbed his hand. She didn't know
what to do with it. She just held it. He got the drift. For some
reason, they both looked at his strands of hair on the tile floor.
They laughed.
I'm 13 years old. Should I be preaching about love when I have had
almost no experience in it? Should any of us preach about love? About
acceptance? What have any of us to speak for? Why do we try to say
these things when we really know how worthless it is? We all try to
find some type of deep thought to make us feel like we have some sort
of meaning. Too often we misconceive tragedy as deep thought and
meaning, so depression and sadness are seen as complexity. What have
any of us to say that is not a lie?
Y'know, I really wanted to have some sort of juicy, cheesy kiss scene in this, and I can't say I know why. Ugh. "Kiss" and "cheese" should never be in the same sentence.