A Call For Help?
Dear Violet and Allegra,
You're currently catching me in a state of confusion, nerves, annoyance, anxiety, etc. It's how I feel every day of my life, but it's turning into explosive energy. I'm sitting in scholarship class, also known as the class I was supposed to be in two letters ago when I was 'on the run' (pun totally intended). Guess who I'm sitting next to, two desks away: Tony.
In the flesh, as I sit with him during class, he doesn't exhibit the characters vibes. You could never tell that he was playing the lovesick, hopeless guy who would sacrifice his life just to be with a girl he met in a high school gym. Neither the person I know who tries so desperately to learn his lines when we're offstage. Earlier he was getting on the most extreme of my nerves when he was being obnoxious about the climate change strike happening next period to the other obnoxious boys in the class. Unfortunately, I have the dishonor of being surrounded by them at the back of the classroom. Tony could've had the choice of sitting next to these boys in the row in front of me, but because there are only three desks in front of me he is stuck within my row. He's calmed down now, wait, he's put down his earphones, oh god he is facing me, as if he's about to say something to me, like he's about to approach me. Wait, false alarm. He put a foot on the chair beside of me, as if he's trying to reach for my desk. It's a habit of his to do that sometimes. He should put his head down. He's scaring me so much that except for my fingers typing furiously away on the keyboard I am catatonic. I glance over at the clock on my laptop. Twenty more minutes until I am free from this prison and until I get to see people who don't actually get on my nerves. God, my fingers are so sore. Why does he keep on stretching? He constantly faces my way as if to look at my screen, so I lower my brightness so that what I'm recording on this laptop is less visible from two desks away.
That was the longest paragraph I have written in a while. Now they're talking about ketamine. God, I wish I moved desks when I had the chance; closer to the teacher whom I mind less than sitting next to Tony. And to think I have to kiss him 6 times throughout the show. I'm already exhausted. Oh my god, he just whispered something to one of the guys, and now it's spread to the others. Now my lips are fully shut. I can't even open my mouth to release a sigh. I hate my nerves. I wish I were a natural. Another 13-14 minutes. Can I wait that long? Realistically, no, but I'll get through it somehow.
Love,
Maui
You're currently catching me in a state of confusion, nerves, annoyance, anxiety, etc. It's how I feel every day of my life, but it's turning into explosive energy. I'm sitting in scholarship class, also known as the class I was supposed to be in two letters ago when I was 'on the run' (pun totally intended). Guess who I'm sitting next to, two desks away: Tony.
In the flesh, as I sit with him during class, he doesn't exhibit the characters vibes. You could never tell that he was playing the lovesick, hopeless guy who would sacrifice his life just to be with a girl he met in a high school gym. Neither the person I know who tries so desperately to learn his lines when we're offstage. Earlier he was getting on the most extreme of my nerves when he was being obnoxious about the climate change strike happening next period to the other obnoxious boys in the class. Unfortunately, I have the dishonor of being surrounded by them at the back of the classroom. Tony could've had the choice of sitting next to these boys in the row in front of me, but because there are only three desks in front of me he is stuck within my row. He's calmed down now, wait, he's put down his earphones, oh god he is facing me, as if he's about to say something to me, like he's about to approach me. Wait, false alarm. He put a foot on the chair beside of me, as if he's trying to reach for my desk. It's a habit of his to do that sometimes. He should put his head down. He's scaring me so much that except for my fingers typing furiously away on the keyboard I am catatonic. I glance over at the clock on my laptop. Twenty more minutes until I am free from this prison and until I get to see people who don't actually get on my nerves. God, my fingers are so sore. Why does he keep on stretching? He constantly faces my way as if to look at my screen, so I lower my brightness so that what I'm recording on this laptop is less visible from two desks away.
That was the longest paragraph I have written in a while. Now they're talking about ketamine. God, I wish I moved desks when I had the chance; closer to the teacher whom I mind less than sitting next to Tony. And to think I have to kiss him 6 times throughout the show. I'm already exhausted. Oh my god, he just whispered something to one of the guys, and now it's spread to the others. Now my lips are fully shut. I can't even open my mouth to release a sigh. I hate my nerves. I wish I were a natural. Another 13-14 minutes. Can I wait that long? Realistically, no, but I'll get through it somehow.
Love,
Maui
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