My Everything Is Going To Be Alright

I feel vaguely like I've just woke up from a sort of nightmare, and now I'm lying in my quastle of pillows and warm, warm blankets, and I'm thinking, "Well thank God I woke up." I know this is going to sound SO contradictory considering my history, but... I'm doing pretty good. Maybe it was the rapid flow of blood from my nose today. Maybe it was last night's sequence of medicinal events. Maybe it was the lying about how long it took me to run the mile. Hi, Colonel Lyman, you heard me right, I really only did three laps. What chu' gon' do, muthafucka? In any case, I feel like I've reached a calm in the typhoon. I'm not saying that there's nothing wrong. Hell no. My French teacher took away my Geography assignment simply because it was out. And did I mention I had to run a mile? Did I mention that my nose bled today, for the first time in, oh, ten years? I think I did. Scroll up, I think it's there. But the thing is that, maybe, for once, I kind of feel comfortable. I feel like I've come into my own [that's what she said] enough to really know what I'm going to be doing the next day.

Here I am, sitting in my quastle of pillows, and I can think of people who I now think of as my friends. I can think of boys who like like me and boys who I like like. I can name kids who, if I saw them on the TRAX, I might whisper about to Dobbl later. This sounds a bit self-centered, but I'm actually liked at this school. People admire my writing. I don't sit alone at lunchtime, even if I am with a group who I drift in and out of. It's strange to feel like this because I finally feel like I'm accepted.

I'm not implying that I wasn't accepted at SLAA, that's so not the case that it's a whole different drawer, it's a whole different file cabinet. I really loved the people at SLAA, not only because most of them, I had experienced the whole four years with, but also because we all were there for a reason. We all wanted to be at SLAA. But I always expected to be a misfit and a freak at Strest. I expected that people wouldn't get my jokes or observations, that everyone in my Creative Writing class would be a total dolt, and I'd have to bear my own pain of being unheard and un-understood. I was proven wrong. The one thing I really like about Strest is how I've acquired friends, or something close to them. I miss Diantha like you don't even know. Without her, it's like half of my brain and my kidneys were ripped out. But the edge has been taken off of going to this school by the people who will tolerate my indecencies. I'm not alone at the Library. And I talk in class. And people noticed when I dyed my hair.

I want to ask, "Is this a dream?" Is it really possible for me not only to have an AMAZING boy named Jason, but to also have Jhonen Vasquez's nephew pining for your heart, and then, a boy two steps away from completely sweeping you off your seat? Is it really possible to be drowning in stress every day, but still be able to pull yourself up every now and again? Is it really possible to find the fucking domain and range of a step equation?

Maybe I'm going to wake up, any time now, be jolted from this cloudy and sublime situation. But please, give me five more minutes?