But I won't. Because unlike other people I know, I'll at least try to be a good girl, and not do everything I want just for the attention and drama that will probably ensue. I'll limit myself to evil thoughts, like thinking how kicking someone's butt might satisfy my enraged self. Seriously.
You can probably tell I'm pretty ticked off. Because I am really really really really really really really ticked off. Mostly at almost all the people in ninth grade, and a little bit at me for being a hypocrite, but I'll tuck that sucky guilt aside so I can rant a bit with an-almost-cleared conscience. *Apologizes for complaints/whining/ranting beforehand, I just needed to get this out...*
*clears throat* So. Why are people so shallow? Why are people so selfish? Why do I get so easily annoyed by people at this school than any I've ever attended? Why do people want me to suffer because a) I get decent grades b) I'm (notice the quotes) "too f* tall" (that in itself deserves a grr from me) c) I get decent grades d) I can speak English so well (?!?!) e) I get decent grades? Why are grades so freakishly important here? Why is it fair that I'm the one they want to suffer, when I'm suffering enough already?!!!
GGGGAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
Remember Girl2 from that post on WordPress I made a while ago? Well, she can really get on my nerves sometimes (although sometimes she's really nice and fun to talk to, but...gahhhh!!!) She's basically the one that wants me to suffer. This is basically what happened, more or less:
Her: Nooo!! I got a B- on my essay...This sucks...
Me: Yeah....
Her: What did you get?
Me: You're just going to get mad at me. Like you always do. Why do you get mad at me anyway, if I get a better grade than you? (*Adds silently in head: Which is really, intolerably stupid of you, and I hope you realize it sooner rather than later.*)
Her: (*Whatever*) Whatever.
Me: Fine. I got an A. Happy?
Her: Nooo!! Ugh, I hate you. Why can't you suffer like the rest of us? I hope you get a bad grade on your next essay...
Me: (*Is silently experiencing rage, wondering what is this girl's problem...*) Um... (*Walks away to locker*)
Her: (*Follows, acts all mad, tugs on my shirt*) You're so mean. How could you get an A?!
Me:
Her: (*Squinty eye, frowns*)
Me:
And that's only ONE of the things that's ticked me off today. The other things also included people getting all "OMGahhhh" over grades, it was seriously way over-the-top.
People can be so....dramatic. (And that's saying a lot, coming from the "Drama Queen" herself. ;)
Oh, and one girl cried because she was getting verbally abused over getting the highest grade in one of our classes. And the person who was bullying her acted like she was the victim. And then all her *friends* just started grinning and laughing, not really knowing what to do, so they just went along with her...
Sigh. I'm the hugest hypocrite for not speaking up when I should, and just sitting there like a dunce, silent as usual. I'm really mad: at all those hypocritical girls and at all those hypocritical ME. Ugghlahness. Seriously.
Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Clowns ARE evil (my dream, slightly tweaked, PART ONE)
I've never seen "Black Knight." But I know lots of you have. And, well, there's obviously Joker in the movie (how could there be a Batman movie and not include Joker, anyway?) So. What I've seen in trailers and commercials, Joker looks totally freaky. I've always disliked clowns, always leering at you, with their thick, bright makeup that would probably feel totally disgusting, which is why I'm glad I'm not a clown.... O_O
Anyway. I had a dream last night. It involved clowns. And many of the same car. And clown minions. And clown slaves. I think I was about to become a clown minion when I either woke up or switched to another weirdish, hazy dream that I hardly remember. But, anyway, here is what I remember from my clown dream (nightmare) last night:
I'm sitting in a lavishly furnished lounge, it's theme: red. The drapes, the sofas, the chairs, the carpets - they're all red, probably meant to look elegant. But I feel as if I'm swimming in a room of blood. I've visited this lounge many times before, but it was always located in different places: an enormous mall, a five-star hotel, or just by itself. Now, I believe it's been located in a local airport, a small airport.
As I sit on this plush, inviting sofa, nodding off occasionally, I wait for someone.I made an appointment earlier in the day, wanting to apply for a job, start earning some money. But why in an airport lounge? Well, I am where I am, however odd the place. The main entrance doors open - my brother walks in, short and chubby. He walks toward me, not saying a word. I open my mouth to speak to him, to acknowledge his presence, question his presence, but nothing comes out. Am I deaf? Am I mute? Why can't I speak? Why isn't there noise?
My brother, Eddie, silently stands next to my seat, apparently waiting for me. He begins to walk away, and pauses. I am to follow him, I think. There is no one else in the lounge, except for Eddie and me. We walk across the room to a door painted crimson, higher than two of me. I obediently follow Eddie as he scurries through, but I sneak a glance back into the lounge as the door closes. The lounge is crowded with people. And where I was just sitting, just a moment ago, I see a man, pale as snow, lips red as cherries, hair black as ebony. Male version of Snow White? No, this guy is ugly. He's a clown. Wearing a suit. He leers. I run, slamming the crimson door behind me.
I am blinded by white. Though my eyes are shut, they are stinging. Though my hands shield my face, I am burning. What's wrong here?! Did I walk into a room of fire? A hand rests on my bent elbow, and my guide, most likely Eddie, leads me out of this place. This is an airport, isn't it? Where am I? The light subsides, and I can finally remove my hands from my head, and my eyes slowly slit open. Ah. This is the airport, clean and tidy and understandable. Eddie is still at my arm, slowly walking toward a nearby escalator. Suddenly, I jump, remembering I had an appointment with someone in the blood-red lounge. Eddie shakes his head, as if reading my mind, as if saying, "That can wait, sis." I nod hesitantly, and follow my out-of-character brother up the escalator, not sure where he's taking me. Maybe we'll get on a plane and go to Europe for a weekend. That would be nice. Maybe the rest of the family is already there, and Eddie and I are just late...
We near the top of the escalator, and now my ears are attacked by a burst of noise and clatter. The area is chaos, people stumbling over each other, shoving, pushing, yelling, shouting. My ears are ambushed, and I truly go deaf - but not with silence this time. Deaf with unending noise. A goat bleats nearby. Why would someone bring a goat to the airport?
We come to the end of the hall. Actually, it's the middle of the hall. It's been cut in half by a row of money-eating machines, and Eddie and I observe others who pass through. They insert a foreign bill into a slot, and then a ticket comes out the slot beneath. The odd thing is, the only thing different between a plain sheet of paper and the ticket is that the ticket has, in bold black block-letters: TICKET. J. I blink once. Definitely odd.
Eddie somehow has hold of a foreign bill, and places it onto a machine. I wait for him to proceed. He just stands there, staring blankly at it. I sigh, exasperated, and shove the bill into the slot. Our ticket appears accordingly. We race down the hall, as if running for our lives. I look around as we pause to catch our breaths. Is this really an airport? I don't see any terminals. I don't see anyone pulling luggage. There are no announcements of, "Last call for boarding flight number this-and-this." It's quiet again. And very white (but not to the point of blinding). For some reason, I believe we are now in a subway. But I see no train. No transportation at all. Are we stuck in this nameless place?
I look around again. I don't see Eddie anywhere. Where could he be? There are no doors anywhere, no escape out of this white, closed hall. That makes it a room, doesn't it? I begin to shiver, falling to the floor, crossing my arms, huddling into a ball. None of this makes sense. I'm alone again, and the pale-faced man comes to my mind, clear as if he were standing right in front of me, leering with his eyes.
I shut my own eyes, wanting to escape. But the walls are closed off, and the room starts to shrink. I have to squat in order to avoid bumping my head. The air in my lungs escapes, and I can't find anymore to fill my chest. I gasp like I am drowning, but without water. Fear tugs my heart, and it beats faster than ever, and my gasps come out quicker, shorter, more desperate. I feel dizzy, and I fall to the floor - but I don't feel impact of flesh on cement. The floor has disappeared, and I am surrounded by black, by night. I'm still hunched in a ball, waiting for this nightmare to end.
My eyes snap open. I am sitting on a red cushion, on a red sofa, in a red lounge. I sigh in relief. It was all just a dream. Just a dream. Wasn't it?
A chuckle.
I freeze. Only my eyes waver. And I scream, I scream so much I almost pass out... but no one hears. Except the pale-faced man. The clown man. He's here.
Anyway. I had a dream last night. It involved clowns. And many of the same car. And clown minions. And clown slaves. I think I was about to become a clown minion when I either woke up or switched to another weirdish, hazy dream that I hardly remember. But, anyway, here is what I remember from my clown dream (nightmare) last night:
I'm sitting in a lavishly furnished lounge, it's theme: red. The drapes, the sofas, the chairs, the carpets - they're all red, probably meant to look elegant. But I feel as if I'm swimming in a room of blood. I've visited this lounge many times before, but it was always located in different places: an enormous mall, a five-star hotel, or just by itself. Now, I believe it's been located in a local airport, a small airport.
As I sit on this plush, inviting sofa, nodding off occasionally, I wait for someone.I made an appointment earlier in the day, wanting to apply for a job, start earning some money. But why in an airport lounge? Well, I am where I am, however odd the place. The main entrance doors open - my brother walks in, short and chubby. He walks toward me, not saying a word. I open my mouth to speak to him, to acknowledge his presence, question his presence, but nothing comes out. Am I deaf? Am I mute? Why can't I speak? Why isn't there noise?
My brother, Eddie, silently stands next to my seat, apparently waiting for me. He begins to walk away, and pauses. I am to follow him, I think. There is no one else in the lounge, except for Eddie and me. We walk across the room to a door painted crimson, higher than two of me. I obediently follow Eddie as he scurries through, but I sneak a glance back into the lounge as the door closes. The lounge is crowded with people. And where I was just sitting, just a moment ago, I see a man, pale as snow, lips red as cherries, hair black as ebony. Male version of Snow White? No, this guy is ugly. He's a clown. Wearing a suit. He leers. I run, slamming the crimson door behind me.
I am blinded by white. Though my eyes are shut, they are stinging. Though my hands shield my face, I am burning. What's wrong here?! Did I walk into a room of fire? A hand rests on my bent elbow, and my guide, most likely Eddie, leads me out of this place. This is an airport, isn't it? Where am I? The light subsides, and I can finally remove my hands from my head, and my eyes slowly slit open. Ah. This is the airport, clean and tidy and understandable. Eddie is still at my arm, slowly walking toward a nearby escalator. Suddenly, I jump, remembering I had an appointment with someone in the blood-red lounge. Eddie shakes his head, as if reading my mind, as if saying, "That can wait, sis." I nod hesitantly, and follow my out-of-character brother up the escalator, not sure where he's taking me. Maybe we'll get on a plane and go to Europe for a weekend. That would be nice. Maybe the rest of the family is already there, and Eddie and I are just late...
We near the top of the escalator, and now my ears are attacked by a burst of noise and clatter. The area is chaos, people stumbling over each other, shoving, pushing, yelling, shouting. My ears are ambushed, and I truly go deaf - but not with silence this time. Deaf with unending noise. A goat bleats nearby. Why would someone bring a goat to the airport?
We come to the end of the hall. Actually, it's the middle of the hall. It's been cut in half by a row of money-eating machines, and Eddie and I observe others who pass through. They insert a foreign bill into a slot, and then a ticket comes out the slot beneath. The odd thing is, the only thing different between a plain sheet of paper and the ticket is that the ticket has, in bold black block-letters: TICKET. J. I blink once. Definitely odd.
Eddie somehow has hold of a foreign bill, and places it onto a machine. I wait for him to proceed. He just stands there, staring blankly at it. I sigh, exasperated, and shove the bill into the slot. Our ticket appears accordingly. We race down the hall, as if running for our lives. I look around as we pause to catch our breaths. Is this really an airport? I don't see any terminals. I don't see anyone pulling luggage. There are no announcements of, "Last call for boarding flight number this-and-this." It's quiet again. And very white (but not to the point of blinding). For some reason, I believe we are now in a subway. But I see no train. No transportation at all. Are we stuck in this nameless place?
I look around again. I don't see Eddie anywhere. Where could he be? There are no doors anywhere, no escape out of this white, closed hall. That makes it a room, doesn't it? I begin to shiver, falling to the floor, crossing my arms, huddling into a ball. None of this makes sense. I'm alone again, and the pale-faced man comes to my mind, clear as if he were standing right in front of me, leering with his eyes.
I shut my own eyes, wanting to escape. But the walls are closed off, and the room starts to shrink. I have to squat in order to avoid bumping my head. The air in my lungs escapes, and I can't find anymore to fill my chest. I gasp like I am drowning, but without water. Fear tugs my heart, and it beats faster than ever, and my gasps come out quicker, shorter, more desperate. I feel dizzy, and I fall to the floor - but I don't feel impact of flesh on cement. The floor has disappeared, and I am surrounded by black, by night. I'm still hunched in a ball, waiting for this nightmare to end.
My eyes snap open. I am sitting on a red cushion, on a red sofa, in a red lounge. I sigh in relief. It was all just a dream. Just a dream. Wasn't it?
A chuckle.
I freeze. Only my eyes waver. And I scream, I scream so much I almost pass out... but no one hears. Except the pale-faced man. The clown man. He's here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
