Chapter Eighteen

I like to think that what I have to say matters. But I'm wrong. I'm just another voice in a thousand.

See, you can think you actually matter, but then you have to think about who matters to you. And no one matters to me.

Except for Tori.

Which really screws over my theory that no one gives a shit about me. So thanks for that, Vega.

Now I have to actually think about what I'm about to do. I used to just do things, because, hell, no one cares anyway so what's the point?

Now that someone cares I can't really do too many stupid things. And I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

The jury seems to be hanging onto my every word, but that's only because what I'm saying is interesting.

That's the only reason you're reading this, isn't it? Because I'm interesting. But I'm really not. I'm really not an exhibit at the zoo. I'm just fucked up. I should be institutionalized.

I came to terms with that a long time ago. I'm not special. I'm not smart, or talented, or intriguing. Sure, I pass my classes. Sure, I sing well, I can act. But that's not even me.

These thoughts, they might make you think, but they mean nothing I assure you. A sane person doesn't have these thoughts. They're more trouble than they're worth. They aren't worth anything, really.

You wouldn't watch a movie about nothing. But the majority of my life, that's all that's happened. Nothing. It's only fairly recently that the events became as jumbled as my mind.

Being under oath really doesn't mean a thing. It's just to make you feel guilty if you lie.

I don't know why they need me up here. All I know is what I was told. All I know is just a blur in my mind, injected by the crazy lady who cut me.

Vega is waiting where ever it is they're planning to cart me off to next. She always is. I get through with something, she comforts me. Then I'm brought to something else. Repeating.

The whole time I was talking I was thinking about how I want to get famous. I want to be famous for finding out how to break the water cycle.

Just to fuck with your head, that's the reason I said that.

Really, that's the only reason I say anything anymore.

Sometimes, when I pass in an English assignment where we have to write something 'from the heart' or some shit like that, it's so choppy no one could decode it. That's the point. You don't ask someone without a heart to write something from the heart, or that's what you'll get.

If my teachers knew shit about writing, they would have called it genius. But they failed me.

Problem is, I do have a heart. I never thought I did, but I do.

Even so, who's to grade my writing? It's all the reader.

I stopped writing after I failed English.

If this sounds all over the place, it's because I fucking want it to be.

No one can tell me who to be anymore. No one but Tori fucking Vega, 'cause I'd rip my own heart out if she asked me to.

Maybe I'll hand this in for an English assignment this year. Just to make my teacher find a grade lower than an F.

Did I mention they made me keep my therapist? And he referred me to a psychiatrist, who then gave me a prescription for a drug I can't pronounce?

It isn't helping much, that much is obvious.

I can pass out on demand, you know. Because most of the time I have to work real hard to not pass out. So it wasn't too hard for me, walking down from the stand, to faint and then wake up in the hospital for the second time in the past month.

Mustn't have looked good to the jury, but she was still found guilty.

I wasn't paying attention when Mr. Therapist was explaining things. But I heard something about a bad reaction to the drug. Something about taking me off of it, trying something else.

I lost faith in medicine a long time ago when my mommy wouldn't wake up.

They can use me as a lab rat, I don't give a shit. They can test out new remedies on me, they can do whatever the fuck they want.

Did I mention I was the reason my parents got married? They wanted to have a kid, so they decided to.

I thought for so long it was my fault they divorced, and nobody cared enough to tell me otherwise.

I just fuck everything up, don't I?

A/N - It wasn't supposed to make too much sense. Let's just leave it at that.

Just 'cause people think things I say have some deep meaning to them.

Anything can mean something if you think about it hard enough.

Woah, I'm sorry. I'm still in depressing, nonsensical writing mode. I'm supposed to be in quirky, nonsensical author's note mode.

It would probably be beneficial to leave and go write some more.

So later homies!