Jb Knows

A Teen Writer’s Trip to the Top

I Don’t Wan’t To Go Home (Part 1) January 10, 2009

This is an interview I conducted with my sister when I couldn’t fall asleep.

I think we should just burn all the AIDS people and start with a clean slate.  We should  burn the cancer people too…Oh wait, they’re not contagious.      Never mind.

Why don’t we just burn the Jews too?
Okay, sounds like fun.  We’ll make it a party.  I should make a scare-Jew.
Is it going to have or face on it?
No, Eric’s. Now he’s going to kill me.
Like you killed AIDS, cancer and Jews?
I think I’ll kill Christians too. And Muslims and Catholics.
Catholics are Christians.
Everyone except Levain Satanist and atheists.
What about agnostics?
Screw them, they think God might exist.
And Satanists worship Satan?
No, they don’t.  Well some don’t.  They just like the name Satanists because it scares the  crap out of people.  They basically think everyone is their own god.      And will do basically anything for their friend’s happiness.
What about family?
Phh.  Like I said anything that makes us happy, not family.  You can all die for all I care.  Actually, that would make me happy.
What do you think about science?
What kind of science?  The human body? Awesome.  Dead things?  Awesome.  Science fiction is awesome.  The math part sucks.
What about basic biology, ie evolution?
(Starts sighing) ‘Evolution is a mystery’.  I don’t know anything about it.  Do I think that Darwin’s theory is possibly true?  Yes, yes I do.
You mentioned you like science fiction.  What about books in general?
Huh?  (Repeats question) Books suck.  Reading sucks.  I rather people read to me.
Doesn’t that kinda ruin the point?
Huh? (Repeats question) No, there is, like, movies and stuff like that.
What about poetry?
I think it’s alright.
What do you think about other people’s poetry?  Do you have a favorite poet?
What?  Eh… Poe is kinda awesome.
What do you think of my poetry?
I think it sucks.
Why?
‘Cause a) it’s hard to read your writing and b) it sounds like you’re trying to be something your not.
And?
That’s it.
That’s it?
Yeah.
Would you like it better if I wrote neater?
Probably not.
Yet you use it as an excuse for not liking my peotry overall?
So?  Have a problem with that? [censored sentence]
Well, don’t you think that is a bit harsh, unfair and unrealistic?
No, it’s pretty fair in my eyes.
What are your plans after you graduate?
Probably going to end up going to s’craft [community college].  After that, an Art Institute.
What is your GPA?
I have no clue.
Is it 2.5 or higher.
Oh.  No.  Lower.  Yeah.  2.3333 and so on.
So, are you getting a degree?
Don’t know.
No idea?
Not yet.  I’ll now when I get it.
If you were going to describe me, in detail, to someone, what would you say?
You?  Um.. I would say…little bit taller than me…snot nosed brat who thinks she knows what she’s always saying.
Anything else?
Won’t stop talking.
Okay, okay, I get the hint.  Anything else?
Oh, yeah, my quote. ‘Blood is pretty, but it stains.’
Good night.
Whatever.

 

The Best Things Are Those You Ignore December 25, 2008

First thing in the morning, the shaking is not that bad. I’d stand with you for twenty minutes, but it won’t come to me. I’m not awake enough to feel the pain, remember why I am there. I’d stand there for twenty minutes, foolishly feeling happiness, but deep down I must know. The shaking starts up after first hour, passing time. I’m going towards your class, or at least next door. Chemistry. I walk in and instantly have to go to the water fountain. I need a drink. My mouth is dry and tastes like copper. I past you, sitting at the counter and hope you don’t look up. Or you are standing there, right outside your door. I keep walking, duck my head and you give me a strange look. You ask me on the way back if I am angry at, or if I am avoiding, you. I turn and walk into class, not answering the question.

I shake for the first fifteen minutes. At least. My partner, Heather, asks me what is wrong. I tell her that I’m just cold. Really cold. Tears swell up in my eyes and I fight them back. I hear you next door, talking to your class. You crack a joke and I hear everyone laugh. Someone goes over and closes the door, complaining about how loud you talk. Hey, I was listening to that.

It starts back up again the last five minutes. I have to past by your room to get to class. My feet turn me into your classroom while my head screams. Please don’t notice me shaking. Notice and fix it. I do not know what I want.

I now shake every passing time. I think that I might run into you, even though you are on the other side of the school. It’s possible, but not probable. So I write you these letters, hoping you would eventually understand without them. You’re not a mind reader, I will admit. Admitting is the first step to recovery.

 

A Remarkable Lad December 21, 2008

Filed under: Unfinished Work — samke23 @ 11:58 pm
Tags: , , ,

You can’t be logical and insane at the same time, can you? Define logical. Look at Poe, great writer, obviously crazy. Was he born that way, or did his becoming an orphan have to do with it? Or did his writing turn him crazy? Wrote everything out to get your mind off of it but then it was put into words and there was no escaping it, you had to face it and analyze it to death until you figured yourself out.

Did he realize he was crazy? Maybe we are just misinterpreting the situation, both his and mine.

So…

Am I crazy? As if you have the answer, to everything. ‘Are you crazy, just let me check.’

 

(Psycho)analysis

How can you tell if you are crazy? You said that you know that you are crazy when I asked you. And if we are so much alike doesn’t that make me crazy too? I would assume that it does. Are you sure you are crazy, or were you just joking around?

If I’m crazy and you’re crazy..

I’m not the only one.

If you’re only crazy…

I will be soon.

If I’m only crazy…

What does that make you?You’re certainly not sane. Is there some sort of midway point that we both stand on? If we are normal, then normal is a pretty broad label. Or everyone is crazy.

If everyone was crazy, we are still crazier then most.

I think before I was just pretending to be crazy and now it has manifested into reality, but how can it do that, who is to blame? Can’t blame myself, the blame certainly does not fall on me because I couldn’t handle that, it must be the media, my environment, some chemical imbalance in my brain that I have absolutely no control over, so it can’t be my fault can it?

But of course! It’s all my fault! It’s always my fault, I am always to blame. That’s why we were late to Debate and why we lost the second game in Quiz Bowl and why you are always in a bad mood lately and you pray, you pray to no god because you have no proof that He is there. God is a disease. He infects the weak in every generation. I can’t be that weak if I’m agnostic, right?

Can’t have an emotional breakdown if you haven’t built your emotions back up yet. Can’t have an emotional breakdown if you have no emotions. Do I have emotions? Or do I just have thoughts? Thoughts that ramble, rambleramblerambleramble and have no point at all except to ask…

Am I crazy?