Webweaver

Fine

I've decided I'm not going to deal with everything. I'm
going to do what I have to do and then what I want and can
do. That's it. I'm going to have fun and be a teenager
and just hang out for a while. I'm learning to skateboard,
meeting new people, I auditioned for Hamlet today, I've got
theater ritual, an eyedoctor's appointment, and the play
Full Frontal or whatever it's called tomorrow, and I'm
getting into Cupola, FPS is starting soon... I can't deal
with everything, especially if it upsets me enough that I
can't do other things. I never cry in public, never, but I
did at school and Joe thinks this whole thing doesn't
affect me, that I don't care. Eric knows differently. He
was my shoulder to cry on in study hall after I got
offline. Joe's wrong and it sucks because now I've lost
two people, at least. No wait three. Patrick, I forgot. I
should've figured he'd go that way anyway. He was Tim's
friend long before he met me. I guess maybe I thought
there was a chance he'd see both sides and maybe understand
but whatever. I thought it was forever. One more dream
lost, illusion shattered, another new and sharper
collection of pieces to pick up. At least I have the will
to do that. The edges will wear down. I'm only 16. Dev
can say suicide is painless, but that's only if you're the
one doing it. You royally screw everyone else. Leaving
them in guilt and misery, with your problems to contend
with while you're being sent back into the world to start
over or in hell, whatever you believe. How did I get to
here anyway? Whatever. I'll live. I always do. And I'll
do it my way.