Post by Chance Gracieux on Jan 24, 2008 15:43:09 GMT
You know I’ve spoken to twenty-one people this year, outside my family.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring out at the lake. Sadly enough, I was actually able to count them… to make a list and count all the people that I’ve talked to in a year. There are others that I’ve nodded at or shrugged to, but everyone I’ve actually exchanged a couple of words with I can remember. A few of them I’m iffy about, even… not entirely sure if I really did talk or just listen. So maybe it’s more like eighteen….
And five or six of them are dead… depending whose included. What is that, between twenty and thirty-five percent, or something like that? Probably about thirty? So if this is a representative sample, then the school will be all but empty in just three more years.
Somehow the bitter sarcasm isn’t doing anything for me except making me feel worse. It can’t quite encompass just how much I hate it, how much it really bothers me that people I have talked to are dead. Not just people I have talked to, but friends, or something like it. Two of them in the past week or two.
And the Porter sisters have left – pulled out of school ‘cause their brother died or something, I’m not really sure. It was all a blur sudden hugs and teary babbling. At any rate, they’re gone. And Laken is annoyed with me ‘cause she can’t understand why I hate her older brother figure – Arden and I have been careful not to let her ever hear his drunken rants against ‘mudbloods.’
And finally Arden herself, the one person that I thought I could always continue to count on…. I shake my head bitterly, picking up a rock and hurling it into the water before I even know what I’m doing. I probably could’ve killed someone with it if I’d aimed the wrong direction. Probably someone I know.
I laugh without humor at that thought, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that I am wallowing in self-pity, but not especially caring.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring out at the lake. Sadly enough, I was actually able to count them… to make a list and count all the people that I’ve talked to in a year. There are others that I’ve nodded at or shrugged to, but everyone I’ve actually exchanged a couple of words with I can remember. A few of them I’m iffy about, even… not entirely sure if I really did talk or just listen. So maybe it’s more like eighteen….
And five or six of them are dead… depending whose included. What is that, between twenty and thirty-five percent, or something like that? Probably about thirty? So if this is a representative sample, then the school will be all but empty in just three more years.
Somehow the bitter sarcasm isn’t doing anything for me except making me feel worse. It can’t quite encompass just how much I hate it, how much it really bothers me that people I have talked to are dead. Not just people I have talked to, but friends, or something like it. Two of them in the past week or two.
And the Porter sisters have left – pulled out of school ‘cause their brother died or something, I’m not really sure. It was all a blur sudden hugs and teary babbling. At any rate, they’re gone. And Laken is annoyed with me ‘cause she can’t understand why I hate her older brother figure – Arden and I have been careful not to let her ever hear his drunken rants against ‘mudbloods.’
And finally Arden herself, the one person that I thought I could always continue to count on…. I shake my head bitterly, picking up a rock and hurling it into the water before I even know what I’m doing. I probably could’ve killed someone with it if I’d aimed the wrong direction. Probably someone I know.
I laugh without humor at that thought, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that I am wallowing in self-pity, but not especially caring.