An airplane is midflight when each passenger drops dead, all but you. Pilot sunk low into the front seat, you, strapped into the metal death bad, what’s next? This is normally the part when “Cut!” is yelled across the stage and the screen rolls into black paneling. All fourteen dead bodies will rise and look for the snack table. Real life becomes less real again.<\/p>\n
To You, the one I keep writing to:<\/p>\n
I am sick of things not working the way they are supposed to. I lose my phone at least twice a day, I run into the drawers on my cabinets, forget to clean the spot of toothpaste on my glasses, halfway write an essay for ten more minutes of gossip with friends. I am tired of what life really is, and also tired of the live reality that I actually want. It’s not real, its a fa\u00e7ade, an oasis, a place I would never be happy in, and I know that. I thrive in the midst of Hell, and its always been like that. I am not one for stagnant waters, and, every now and then, a little sea monster coming to chomp my sailboat in half is enough to inspire me, if not push me to keep swimming.<\/p>\n
Sometimes when I am eating food, I forget to chew and swallow so much air down with it I gag. Sometimes, I wear shirts with holes in the armpits. Sometimes, I don’t do my homework but pay for someone’s dinner and then wear my contacts to bed. It’s a rough time, but also a generous one. Little things like these help me appreciate the nice parts of life. If everything was good, I’d be more boring than I already am, which might kill me. I want to paint daisy’s on the tips of my friends’ eyelashes. I want to breathe underwater like a goldfish and gulp down the pennies thrown into my koi pond. I want to be able tot hold my breath for more than ten seconds. I want to feel<\/em> something.<\/p>\n And that’s why life has to be the worst thing I’ve ever experienced – so it can also be the very best thing I’ll ever do. (Duh.)<\/p>\n I plan to laugh when I stub my toe walking out of the girl’s bathroom. I will cry during Dove skincare commercials with no shame. I will yell and twitch and hurt and love and be too much for even me to handle.<\/p>\n And it will have to be enough for the both of us, because I am tired of apologies.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" An airplane is midflight when each passenger drops dead, all but you. Pilot sunk low into the front seat, you, strapped into the metal death bad, what’s next? This is normally the part when “Cut!” is yelled across the stage and the screen rolls into black paneling. All fourteen dead bodies will rise and look … Continue reading “Why”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":25,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1712"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/25"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1712"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1712\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1954,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1712\/revisions\/1954"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1712"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1712"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1712"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}