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i died at nineteen

4 Apr

1. I’m tempted to copy another journal entry to my blog, because I don’t feel like thinking. But I decided to write Five Things tonight. The first thing is about my being a high school senior. It was difficult. Girls, man. Besides the homework and the boys, when I think of high school, I often think about how disappointing it was to have girls as friends. I feel bad that it’s come to this. It’s not fair for me to vent about backstabbing high school frenemies, especially when there was a time when we were fine and genuinely liked each other. And it’s not fair for me to share all my secrets with other girls so they’ll be less inclined to notice the distance I’ve put between us as a sort of buffer if things go all Ashley B.

2. I miss Oregon. I mean, I miss hanging out with my sister. And I miss the trees and the wide open spaces. Right now, I especially miss the dry cold. I’m melting in 84% humidity in the living room of my house in Kaneohe, and I’m wet and sticky, and I just want to be dry and cool and to be less than two-thousand miles away from Trader Joe’s. But really. Humidity is one of my least favorite things. While he was unlocking a used car for me to go on the road for work stuff, Sales Guy D commented on the mugginess. I surprised myself by taking this as an opportunity to Talk. I mentioned my recent trip to Oregon and the nice weather there, and I sounded like a normal, functioning human being until he said something about the impending discomfort of humidity at his father’s funeral this weekend. What am I supposed to say to that?

3. I enjoyed telling you about that time I died in front of everybody in fifth grade. When I was about nineteen, I died again. I’d crashed my car into a railing on the side of the road, and while I was drifting in and out of a weird and painful sleep, a team of paramedics came and rushed me to the hospital. I’d undergone several surgical procedures, but I couldn’t remember what it was for because I was sleeping or felt like I was sleeping the whole time. The next two days were a blur of doctors and nurses, my parents, and my boyfriend who at the time was someone different, someone who needed to feel the pain of my ultimate leaving. I passed, barely knowing it, in a hospital room with the somber faces of my grandparents and my immediate family while he was asleep in his apartment at nine p.m.

4. Am I sick? I love that kind of thing. This is morbid and self-righteous. Now I am going to die doing yoga at sixty-seven.

5. Number four was barely a Thing. Since my brother has his license now, he takes the car to work down the street sometimes. If he drives tomorrow, the radio will sing him a lovely song. I set it up to play when the engine turns on, and I’m convinced it will sound good enough to listen to the whole way through. I just want him to admit that the music I listen to is Good.

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One Response to “i died at nineteen”

  1. Wendy April 5, 2012 at 6:31 am #

    Go ahead and rant about high school 🙂 I know at one point I was a part if your rant lol

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