We'll Love Again, We'll Laugh Again, We'll Cry Again, and We'll Dance Again
Maybe They'll Leave You Alone, But Not Me.
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I'm pretty sure the mind of Marie's is a weird one, ain't it?
To you, at least.
For me, she's as normal as the rest of us.
Whatever normal is.
So, how did I get stuck with one of the most amazing people in the world?
We've known each other, for as long as both of us can remember.
Maybe it was our parents that put us two together.
For a while, Miranda, Marie, and I though Marie's father had a relationship with my mom and Miranda's at one time or another.
We still laugh at that.
So, what about myself.
I tend to be the one people come to, to talk.
Specifically Marie.
I am the one who seems to have the good opinions and words to say when someone has a question about life.
But, I never intend for her or anyone else to trust me so much with everything.
Most teenagers have their mind set to what they want to do.
Or have some kind of, idea, what they'd like to do.
For me, I see myself hanging out with Marie and Miranda my whole life.
I don't have dreams of ever leaving California and becoming someone to change this world.
Or make difference in someones life.
It's not one of my dreams, or goals.
If making a difference in someones life was one of my dreams, I've already accomplished it at such a young age.
What now?
I have a job, as a book keeper.
You can say.
Barnes & Noble is one of the best places to work.
Quiet, peaceful, and two stories of books.
If only I could work there my whole life.
If I really had to choose what I'd have to do my whole life or die in three minutes, I'd choose to be some type of a model.
Not the anorexic, walk down the cat walk model.
But pose for a particular picture outside.
Or dress in some stereotyped clothing to get a good picture out of it all.
I'd be able to do that all my life.
With Marie being the photographer, and putting the pictures out on the Internet, for people to steal and call their own.
Even use the picture as their own, and calling me, them.
Which most people might believe at first.
Then, they soon figure out they only see one picture of that person, when other people strive to take more and more pictures of themselves to show other people the proof that they are who they say they are.
At high school, I'm shoved into the 'emo' stereotype.
But then the 'emos' call me a poser.
So, I'm not too sure on what type of person I seem like to people.
I guess I can play any role they spit at me.
If I dressed differently everyday.
It's happened.
One day you wear this one band shirt, your goth.
The next day you wear a pink band shirt, your a prep.
I don't see what the deal is, especially if it's the same band, yet a different color.
A real artist, might look at my drawings and call them shit.
But, when I look at them, they speak what's in my head.
From a scene in a horror movie, to a girl sitting alone at a park full of people not noticing her.
My drawings specifically tell other people my feelings about them.
From hatred, to best friends.
If I draw you a picture, don't take it as I like you.
It's how you make me feel, and what I think about you.
Once, I drew this one girl dying from a plane crash, and gave it to her, and I got suspended for a week and sent to therapy for a month.
I'm pretty sure the girl will never dare to speak shit about me or anyone else I know anymore.
From that, other people started calling me crazy.
Sure, if you call expressing your feelings through drawings instead of words is crazy.
Then I must be.
I take the time to sketch it out in detail, and then give it to the person, in the matter of a day or two.
To other people, it takes longer to muster up some words that never make sense in the end.
I tend to think before I speak, something a lot of people have trouble with.
It's why I took up drawing.
So it prevented me from speaking out in words, but speaking out in drawings.
I have no limits in what I say in my drawings.
When I was in 6th grade, I got into an argument with Miranda about a little thing.
So I drew her as a whore on the streets, getting picked up by her boyfriend at the time.
She still has that picture.
We laugh at it now.
But you should of seen what happened when I gave her that drawing.
It was one of those Kodak moments, where you know having a camera wouldn't express your happiness or excitement you have about the image playing before you, in a picture.
Yet you still want the camera anyways.
Marie thinks I have incredible talent with just a pencil.
So, I draw everything she wants me to.
When I'm at her house, all the time, I add something new to her wall.
A tradition we started a year or two ago.
And let me tell you, I am almost done with the third wall now.
Her dad doesn't mind either, since he is hardly home to see her room.
I drew her the clandestine bat from Pete Wentz' label, even though she doesn't know that band exists, with two stars on the left and right side of it and she fell in love with it.
So she declared she's getting it tattooed to her stomach as soon as she turns 18.
I'm not sure if I should be excited and grateful that she's getting what I drew tattooed onto her body, or if I should be concerned about her dad.
Her dad is a whole different story.
When I was old enough, he spoke to Miranda and I about how Marie can't know about this and that.
Or listen to this and that.
Or know anything about everything.
Which, I obey, for now.
It's hard going to her house, and talking about school or what I'm doing that weekend with Miranda at the movies, without feeling bad that she hasn't even seen one at the theater.
Marie says it's okay, but me, as caring as the person I am, makes it hard for me.
Lately, we've been talking about when she turns 18.
Finally an adult and able to do whatever she wants.
We agreed that I would take her to get her license, since she has been training since 15, but her dad won't let her get it till 18.
Then we'd go get tattoos together.
And then the rest is up to her at the time.
If you knew a secret about your best friend, that she doesn't know, would you tell her?
Then, if her father finds out, what would you say?
You agreed to obey his rules, for his only daughter.
Let's take the lies for a spin.