I-no. Hahahaha nooo.
My dear subbies, I am sorry, but there is a bit of a rant due for today (and I am typing this up in my last class so I can post it later) because this last week has been terrible.
And here we go…
Ranty rant rant—
ARE YOU KIDDING ME. ARGHHHH. So, Thursday was the day after we turned in our flash fiction in creative writing. It had to be 1000 words and be “showing not telling” and etc. She had read them, told our class that all of them were terrible and etc yadda yadda. But she also pissed me off. What my teacher had done was call me out in front of the whole class, asked: 1. Do I think I’m experienced enough to write a torture scene and 2. Have I ever been tortured? When I replied to the second one, not knowing what to say to the first one, and said No. (Of course I haven’t, thankfully) she asked me how I thought I could write one then. I was enraged! People write about being a super hero, a thief, a war vet, and many other things without it actually being something they have done! And I’m sure all the other students had written something along the sorts of THEY HAD NEVER DONE IT IN THERE LIFE, which is why FICTION is available. Because I sure as hell haven’t been in a cold vampire romance, or have the ability to cast spells, but hey! Look at those best FICTION sellers!
So what did I do? Instead of rewriting the story I apparently could not write about (The torture was the only connection between the two characters I chose to write about, not having that happen thus rendered those characters to NEVER interact with each other because there was no reason to without that vital scene) I wrote about boring Steve and his boring life and how his experiences were and DELIBERATLY going “OH HEY LOOK I WROTE ABOUT THINGS EVERY NORMAL BORING PERSON EXPERIENCES AND LOOK HOW BORING IT IS BECAUSE I CAN’T WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING THAT I HAVEN’T EXPERIENCED.” (of course I haven’t experienced being a young male named Steve…But I have read a boring book and made boring notes and touched boring pencils). I lived in fear this weekend that she would call me out in class again and rant off about it. What happened?
NOTHING. SHE TOOK IT SERIOUSLY AND THOUGHT THAT WAS MY ATTEMPT AT A NEW STORY.
Oh. My. Goddess.
Which comes to two conclusions.
1. She’s pitying me
2. She was playing my game right back?
Oooh, it ruffles my- oooh it- ARGHHH.
And now with that rant over with, I have a different one. You probably- well. I want to get it out. And it needs to, because it shall explain any dark posts, comments, or etc you may get from me in the next few days.
My friend is in the hospital. She’s…fine, in a physical sense. Mentally, no. No need to think she was hurt physically and it landed her to a mental hospital (No rape or anything like such). She..ah…Wanted to commit suicide. Badly. So Wednesday she talked to her therapist and apparently it was bad enough for her to be transferred to a hospital in Salem. (which is a bit of a ways from me, just to clear up). She’s staying there for ten days…Goddess knows what she’s doing. I don’t know what they do at mental hospitals, other than the Serious mental hospitals. Maybe they’re letting her read. She probably can’t read her favorite author, Stephan King, because his books are…dark.
I haven’t told anyone. My other friend already knows (We’ve been the trio of friends since elementary) …and a friend online knows, along with my college friend. I haven’t told my parents…I haven’t come up with a good reason to. So when I had my moments this weekend, it raised arguments with my father. (I stay at my mom’s for half the week, then go to my dad’s) Stupid arguments too. At first it was about why I’ve been acting weird (and honestly I would be acting like I was even if nothing was wrong) then it went to the I’m-Not-Stupid argument, regretfully, and then the I-pay-for-this argument (We get Netflix. Goddess knows why that was turned into an argument. I like to watch certain things at certain times. Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to watch something that we’ve had for a few weeks. I forget. )
Thankfully, I’m going to my mom’s tonight. Unless he told her about how weird I’ve been acting, then I’ll probably have to spill it and tell them about her…
I know what a lot of people would automatically tell their parents, but…I can’t bring myself to. It has nothing to do with them, it means a great deal more to me than it would to them, and they would blame every small thing that was odd on the fact that she is in the hospital. I don’t want that. I want my actions to be blamed on the fact that I have done them and no one has forced me to do them. Me turning in that paper was supposed to be a part of that. Of “Fsck yes I can call you out on your sh*t too” movement.
I haven’t cracked yet. Instead I did the opposite of what someone would probably tell me to do. I forced myself to think about it. Friday it was raining, mildly, and it was beautiful. It was the perfect grey movie setting. Everything was a light cold grey, and there was even an occasional wind. So I walked a bit down my driveway (I live in a heavily wooded area, so my driveway isn’t some paved one in the middle of a neighborhood. No, it’s out in the woods…It’s peaceful) and just stood there, in the rain, thinking about plans for what to do if she...and if she didn’t. It was…nicer. I think I would have hurt myself if I tried not to think about it.
But this weekend was an escape. It was nice. Remember how I talked of going to my friend’s (that’s in college) house and playing video games most of the night? Yeah…I went over at 8 Pm (surprised me, didn’t think dad would let me, but I could. She had also just got off from work so…that’s why it was late) and played video games until 3 PM. No sleep. At all. Around 4 AM we tried to go to sleep, and we laid there until around 5 AM, and she asked if I was sleeping. I said no, she offered that we get up and play Mass Effect 3 more, and thus we did until 3 PM. Then we had lunch and I went home.
Oh, it was glorious. Unfortunately I told her about my friend being in the hospital right before I left. I don’t know. I was tired and I really wanted to express how grateful I was that she let me come over again. She told me everything was going to be fine, since she has had experience with friends almost killing themselves or seriously thinking about it, so it calmed me down slightly.
I can’t promise that my friend will not do it. I can’t even decide that for myself if she would or not. She’s had a terrible life. Mother abusing her, brother constantly trying to, sister going to life of drugs, etc. She’s had to suffer through it all and still manages to be bright and happy. Wondered how she’s down it in years, the first moment I get upset I have to get it out in some way. Now it’s showing that it’s getting to her. It’s…She…She’s really nice. Sweet. Thoughtful. First words out of her mouth is mostly sorry if she’s ever done something wrong. Always looking up when something goes wrong. For this to happen is just…awakening some thoughts and realizing how it is with her. Taking a step in her shoes in other words. Maybe jogging three miles in her shoes, actually.
Plans have been made. Apparently I’m going to help make her a card and, while it is a nice sentiment, I can’t help but to disagree to the whole thought of it. You make cards for people who have a cold, stomach flu, a broken leg. Not someone who wants to commit suicide. But she may need it, so I’m trying to think of something. I thought of a running gag that’s in the Mass Effect games (She showed them to me) that we both love. So I may try that.
Thanks, my subbies, if you struggled through and read that. You guys deserve a cookie.
