The hallway is alright.

My name was always 'Addison' but that one boy called me 'Addigail' 
and I still see him write it on the folds of faded blue lines which serves as a reminder 
that I was never just 'Addison'.

And I know none of you will comment,
because you're afraid of yourselves.



And yesterday I was a mystery to everyone,
but today everyone is a mystery to me.
Everyone who watches me, I don't know why or with what angst or appreciation.
You are all a mystery to me.

I got cat-called twice today, followed by the same anonymous "JACKIE O!" 
as if the fifth-grade revolution was taking over Lone Peak. 

A lot of eyes followed me. Even teachers.

As if my interior was hectic & everyone was allowed to diagnose me.

And I hate compliments because I still haven't learned how to reply to them
without 1 cup of sarcasm & 3 tablespoons of anxiety.

Today in AP Art, lightning struck in the corner where they mentioned me,
and somehow my hair fell in paint and Scarlet Carol was carrying my head to the sink to scrub it out and thank heavens for people like her.


For people like Trevor Powers, whose never thrown stones at anyone despite the wall they crushed him with.

For Brandon Robbins and the education he made off of strangers and broken silence.

For Rothko sharing her trundle in the cabin where we all figuratively found love, Idaho.

For Priscilla Belle and the black-and-white headband that introduced herself across a Timberline desk in a classroom thick with insecurity.

For Malcolm Carter, because he knows why.

For TigerLilly and the rose he gave me wrapped in tears, not just because I wore a uniform.

For you and you and you and them and him.

I don't know which of you are reading this, 
which of the improbable people that closed a circle around my empty shell, 9th grade.

I don't care anymore.
It's an anxiety that threatens to beat your skull in and my words prefer 
to reminisce when caring wasn't a hazard.


This isn't goodbye.

I'm not bitter.

I'm 30-some days from pushing Care completely out of my skull,
and your opinion may alter because I sit silent in the corner desk of the classroom,

but I'm this close to losing it.

To losing Care like she lost her virginity, 
quickly and easily,
gone without a ceremony, 
where only one person laughed for .02 seconds (on God's scale)
and it wasn't her.

Her definition in the almighty book was skewered and she cried to me about it,
but it only took .02 seconds to lose Care just as swiftly 
as she'd lost everything else.

And if yearbooks were dictionaries, what words would be scrawled under that picture of you?

I don't know.


I'm still going to write, and make eye contact with people 
who are expediting my thought process, 
but I've learned to hide insecurity behind a thick layer of adventure,
and a handful of hobbies that taste like cinnamon,

and if you don't do the same, the clock on the wall probably hates you 
and you're just keenly submitting to its Satan-theory control.

And it isn't hard to break a clock.



21 comments:

  1. I really want to talk to you in person. We've gone to the same school for, like, six years and I don't think we've ever even met. I know that we've had classes together and everything, but different cliques form chasms. You have a beautiful soul, though, and I hope you never stop writing.

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  2. I really want to talk to you too. My favorite lines were: " As if my interior was hectic & everyone was allowed to diagnose me." "And I hate compliments because I still haven't learned how to reply to them without 1 cup of sarcasm & 3 tablespoons of anxiety."
    Great Job.

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  3. this might be my favorite of yours

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  4. "I hate compliments because I still haven't learned how to reply to them
    without 1 cup of sarcasm & 3 tablespoons of anxiety." #mylife
    Sorry I don't go to Lone Peak anymore so I can't actually get to know you (and I never was friends with like anyone there), but you're pretty awesome and real and this was cool.

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    Replies
    1. We were friends!!!

      I like this post and relate(ish).

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  5. This needed to be said. And for me, this needed to be read.

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  6. Life is but a fleeting candle, but the words you have strutted upon the stage will be in it forever. As long as you write, I will behold.

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  7. The part about compliments is me to a tee. I'm usually pretty ride written people compliment me, but I just don't know how to respond. But anyway, I'm glad you're still writing, because you truly have a gift.

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    1. Also, sorry for complimenting you after taking about how you don't like compliments. Awkward.

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    2. Hey now, I'm getting better. I'm glad we share this defect

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  8. "but I've learned to hide insecurity behind a thick layer of adventure,
    and a handful of hobbies that taste like cinnamon" Wow. Also, thank you

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  9. I can't believe we lived in the same ward and we never spoke to each other. It's nice to finally meet you.

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  10. I don't think this could have been written any better, that was perfect. Couldn't agree more with everything you've said.

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  11. your blog is a peaceful place, paradoxically. i luv it.

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  12. This is/you are perfect. So.
    Also I've always wanted a trundle.

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  13. commenting because I really want this to have 20 comments, I'm feeling unsettled. also HELLO you're amazing good HECK I don't know what to do with myself.

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    Replies
    1. I'm sorry to add onto the comments but THANK YOU because it's been driving me insane & also I really like you but ALSO thank you for sharing my passion for round numbers. We're at 21 comments now but I don't care.

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