Taking long strides to hell in stilleto heels

Spring break 2009 is officially drawing to a close, and I'm proud to announce that I spent my 9 days off from school constructively this year. Sort of. If you count painfully long strides towards hell to be constructive. I've got my bases covered, as far as sins go.

Gula: Five meals a day, every day, plus snacks. It had nothing to do with appetite - I was bored and the fridge was well-stocked. What can I say? I'm an opportunist.

Acedia: Not that this is any surprise, but I saw more of my bed these past 9 days than I'd seen of it all year. I did not write, did not draw, did not think. And, ah, it was beautiful. I'll have a hell of a time dragging myself back out at 7:00 tomorrow morning.

Avaritia: My bank account is doing well. I am not sharing. Instead I've spent it on silly things and hoarded them all in my room. Perfumes, alcohol, and clothes. Greedy little thing I am.

Luxuria: Surprised? Me too.

Superbia: Well this is pretty much a constant. It's not that I actually love myself - quite the opposite. It's funny, I think it all started when Nori passed away. It's been almost a year that I've been stuck in this rut, putting myself first, thinking of myself, concentrating on how I feel. And, yeah, I've ignored everyone else in the process. It's been coming back to bite me, though, don't you worry. Karma's got my name and address memorized by now.

Invidia: Everyone's in Europe or Brazil or Germany or, hell, Ontario, while I'm stuck in Manitoba. Marissa's best friends with my old best friends. Evan's completely lost interest in me. The guys are drifting away. Basically, I've been envying every person with a best friend who got the chance to leave the province for Spring Break. It's pretty draining.

Ira: I don't think I'll ever be able to keep myself from hating some people, but I should be able to fake it by now. I still choose to make it all public, though. And I can be pretty harsh about it. I'm just vocal, I guess, but it's certainly not winning me any inner-beauty pageants.

I can't imagine how karma will settle the score this time, but I know it will happen. It always does. I just pray it will wait until Tuesday and allow me a peaceful Monday, just to get back on my feet.

Also, I have no idea who even reads this anymore, but if you are, please take a few minutes to visit Dave Smallen's website. He's got three fantastic songs available to listen to, all of which have had their turn spending hours on repeat on my ipod. I wish I could write the way this man can write. Please lend him your ears for at least one song. :)

Dear Best Friend: While Your Back Was Turned...

I developed a habit of sleeping around 6 hours most nights, just to chat on msn with an amiable scottish boy I used to frequent a nerdy forum with.

I made a point of forgetting to respond to your texts, IMs, and occasionally even your verbal greetings.

I told everyone I hate you and your boyfriend as a couple. Immature though it was, I was jealous and angry and it made me feel relevant again.

I lit up with that seedy wangster type in my class and paid him back with Jager and a few shameful physical privileges.

I got a little close with that other boy. That innocent one I told you I couldn't see myself with. Yeah, that one.

I wrapped myself in two sweaters and shivered the hours away by the fire on Red Bull, alcohol, and marijuana.

I faded out, and in, and out again on the couch beside the sleaziest specimen of man I've yet to encounter. I woke up the next morning with only brief memories of just how much he'd done to me, and instead of calling you, I brushed my teeth, cried, and went back to sleep.

I complained, not only a lot, but about completely unnecessary things. But I promise, I promise a million times over, I was only afraid to tell you the truth about that night, and afraid you'd blame yourself when it was my fault and my fault alone. Even if I never tell you - I doubt I ever will - I'll pay you back in patience and small favors and unwavering loyalty. Large doses of these have got to add up to more than a night's worth of shame.

I thought I could die happy...

Arriving doe-eyed and jet-lagged in Reykjavik, fumbling through customs and watching the mossy hills roll by on the car-ride to our farmhouse in Fluder.

Leaning over the side of my grandfather's boat, catching the spray from the waves and watching the horizon bob before us.

Pressed tight between a bathroom door and a boy, stupid and high, counting the number of teeth in his mouth.

Burning the skin off an apple, tossing empties out into the woods, and catching fireflies while bearing my heart and soul and naivety to every human willing to describe me with a six-letter F word.

Having my skinned knee kissed better on the kitchen floor and my hair held back as I choked up nothing but rum and stomach acid.

Lingering an extra split second in the passenger seat of a certain boy's car.

Catching sight of the roadside sign welcoming me to Hudson's Hope.

Sitting up with my post-stroke pepere in his hospital bed and hearing him utter a record-breaking six-word question.

Being escorted home, comforted and hugged by two all-too-generous friends after Bridget's party.

Being interrupted mid-sentence to be told to fuck off when it was precisely what I needed to be told.

It's a very fleeting feeling, but I can fully understand why people spend their whole lives pursuing it.