Rock the Boats.
July 23rd 2008 19:10
Being a moody Teen-ager, I am prone to mood swings, anger, euphoric-anger, and flailing about. I try my best to place all of my ill-conceived moodlings in a tupperware, as suggested by psychiatrist, but sometimes I can't. I then resort to sewing in a corner, and writing angsty poetry. My anger sometimes becomes an orange quilt, and if I am particularly mindful, an orange quilt with squares filled with orangey-needlepoint-fire. Orange is the cheapest thread you can buy, so most of my things reflect a deep-set anger that doesn't belong to me. Child mental doctor, Jen says otherwise.
"It's just the thread. It's orange. I mean, if it were blue, you'd think it was a water-quilt, right?"
"But it's not blue, is it, Molly?"
"Well, no, but Dairy Queen only lets me work part time, Jen. Blue thread? That's like, 10 more cents than the orange."
"10 more cents you could afford, if you wanted to express your serenity."
Once I get out of that stupid soft pinkish room of my hell, I walk to Times Square. Hobos, Cutie-patooties, Slutty-wutties, there are people everywhere, and I wonder what their stories are. I'm curious enough to step on the back of Lil' Miss Thang's ugg boots. She turns around like a girl who has a smart-ass retort. Her red shadow scares me. "What's your story, morning Glory?" I smile, hopeful. I wield a plastic watch that day, and look at it. I quickly add for wit, "More like, afternoon glory." She gives me a look, pulling all points of her face towards her nose. She reaches into a huge imitation Coach bag. I expect mace, or worse, a poor scraggley dog that hasn't pissed in a year. I shield my snow bitten peepers. "Here" She says, a dollar in her purple-gloved hand. "Oh, come on!!" I think out loud. "I'm not a hobo! I just wanted to know your life story! I wanted us to be friends, me an introverted person, and you, a closet recluse." I swallow hard, feeling words form as quickly as a rabbit running from a tractor. "We'd go to Texas for spring break, and we'd audition for American Idol!! You'd get in to see Paula, and I wouldn't. You'd comfort me and say 'It's okay, Molly, it's an abomination to telly anyways.' Then you'd give up the audition so I'd feel better. We'd rent out a place for orphans. I'd get a cat!" I'm close to tears now. "I wanted us to be like, BBFs. God! Is that so hard? Can't we just watch some Johnny Depp movie together or share a soda or SOMETHING? Fine! Screw you!!!" Suddenly, I hear a voice in my head. "Tupperware....Tupperware...c atch the anger...." I contrarily cross my arms in the cold, calm down. Are people watching us? My head was watching the concrete, seeing only that her hand held a 5 dollar bill, not a one. Wait. A 5?? I snatched it, mumbling some story about my 5 children having pellagra, and hold it up to a sparsely clouded sky. Lincoln said hello. I take a look at Lil Miss Thang. She's shocked, but young. She'll survive. Youngin's always do. As for me? I'm heading to Starbuckies. Might try that new thing. You know, the healthy thing. Well, I guess healthy would make it disgusting. Maybe I should just- "HEY!!" I feel someone bump into my arm. A guy. Borderline cute. "What's the story morning glory?" He says, looking at some cheapo watch. "More like, Afternoon glory." Must think he's real clever...He has a goofy smile, I know he's harmless. But still...."OOWWW!!! MY EYES!! YOU BITCH!!!" He's too late at covering his eyes. I smile what I know is an intelligent grin, not some stupid goof-troop. "Weirdo..." I sigh.
"It's just the thread. It's orange. I mean, if it were blue, you'd think it was a water-quilt, right?"
"Well, no, but Dairy Queen only lets me work part time, Jen. Blue thread? That's like, 10 more cents than the orange."
"10 more cents you could afford, if you wanted to express your serenity."
Once I get out of that stupid soft pinkish room of my hell, I walk to Times Square. Hobos, Cutie-patooties, Slutty-wutties, there are people everywhere, and I wonder what their stories are. I'm curious enough to step on the back of Lil' Miss Thang's ugg boots. She turns around like a girl who has a smart-ass retort. Her red shadow scares me. "What's your story, morning Glory?" I smile, hopeful. I wield a plastic watch that day, and look at it. I quickly add for wit, "More like, afternoon glory." She gives me a look, pulling all points of her face towards her nose. She reaches into a huge imitation Coach bag. I expect mace, or worse, a poor scraggley dog that hasn't pissed in a year. I shield my snow bitten peepers. "Here" She says, a dollar in her purple-gloved hand. "Oh, come on!!" I think out loud. "I'm not a hobo! I just wanted to know your life story! I wanted us to be friends, me an introverted person, and you, a closet recluse." I swallow hard, feeling words form as quickly as a rabbit running from a tractor. "We'd go to Texas for spring break, and we'd audition for American Idol!! You'd get in to see Paula, and I wouldn't. You'd comfort me and say 'It's okay, Molly, it's an abomination to telly anyways.' Then you'd give up the audition so I'd feel better. We'd rent out a place for orphans. I'd get a cat!" I'm close to tears now. "I wanted us to be like, BBFs. God! Is that so hard? Can't we just watch some Johnny Depp movie together or share a soda or SOMETHING? Fine! Screw you!!!" Suddenly, I hear a voice in my head. "Tupperware....Tupperware...c atch the anger...." I contrarily cross my arms in the cold, calm down. Are people watching us? My head was watching the concrete, seeing only that her hand held a 5 dollar bill, not a one. Wait. A 5?? I snatched it, mumbling some story about my 5 children having pellagra, and hold it up to a sparsely clouded sky. Lincoln said hello. I take a look at Lil Miss Thang. She's shocked, but young. She'll survive. Youngin's always do. As for me? I'm heading to Starbuckies. Might try that new thing. You know, the healthy thing. Well, I guess healthy would make it disgusting. Maybe I should just- "HEY!!" I feel someone bump into my arm. A guy. Borderline cute. "What's the story morning glory?" He says, looking at some cheapo watch. "More like, Afternoon glory." Must think he's real clever...He has a goofy smile, I know he's harmless. But still...."OOWWW!!! MY EYES!! YOU BITCH!!!" He's too late at covering his eyes. I smile what I know is an intelligent grin, not some stupid goof-troop. "Weirdo..." I sigh.
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