Blood on your face. Blood in my eyes.

Last time this year I was scared shitless about going back to school because I was coming out of a summer that made me happy, and that finally made me feel important. I was afraid that when I started school again that I would lose that feeling, and something, this coming out of sophmore year, made me feel like I was going back to a place that was going to make me feel awful and unwanted. I was proven wrong... slightly. I realized a lot of things as a junior, or maybe I just solidified a lot of the things that I already knew to be true. I became great friends with Jessie Birdman. We're fairly similar, both maybe a little ahead of our years, but the differences that we have and our ability to vocalize them with each other makes it easy to have a friend my age. A friend my age. Just one. I realized that again this year too. When I'm at school, all I really have is Jessie, partly because she's the only one who will put up with my incessant talking about the what's going on at the theatre, or who I was running lines with the day before last, or the plans we might be able to make granted I get a day off. And partly we're both just fucking crazy, and know and accept it. My relationship with her is like gold in a pot of fools, especially when what I thought was one of my strongest friendships came to an end last year mainly because of the inability to accept that I've been more and more finding it hard for me to apply myself to relationships that will hold so little weight after high school. I could go on about this specific incident for hours, but I'll spare you the whining. All I will say is that it definitely made me more aware of the priorities I have for myself and what I do. I was most unhappy this year during those little slots where I wasn't at the theatre. Those were the moments that I felt like the zombie, math hating, smart-ass in Democracy, the most. All year we would meet in advisory, or at the beginning of another class and we'd be asked what our weekend was like, and I would find myself telling the same people the same story, but I think mostly because I wanted that teacher to know where I was at in my days. I didn't give a shit that that sixteen-year-old pot smoker was tired of hearing about the show I just saw, or rehearsals I just started. Where am I going with this blog? Oh yeah.
The past few days, and almost week I have been home for a good eight or less hours of the day, most of those forcing myself to sleep and get ready for the day in the hot, sticky, house that I've been using as a pit stop where I fill up with coffee, and charge my cell phone. I've eaten out almost every meal, whether it be at a restaurant I haven't been to since age eight, or at the welcoming home of my un-biological 'mama'. I've had about five or more scripts in my head in the past week and have somehow been finding time to sketch and sew until my fingers...still don't feel like falling off. At dinner tonight, specifically I saw three people who were formerly students at my school. They were seniors when I was a freshman... and now I'm a senior. And now I'm a senior. I'm not scared shitless this year to start back up at school because I've become so comfortable with what I'm doing, and where I am in my life that as long as I've still got a year of planned education as the penciled in base of this crazy painting / collage that is my life, that's made up of the coffee, and makeup, and costumes, and scripts, and everything else that I manage to fit in my huge purse, I'm going to be fine, because I know what I need to make me happiest. I've got my class ring chosen, and it doesn't even have anything to do with my school. I've got more than I know what to do with in front of me, and an increasing amount of beautiful, loving people who know exactly what to say to make everything I'm doing not only feel right, but be right. I feel like as I feel like more of a person, people will see me as less of one, and whereas that's probably not the best... it feels damn good to be able to almost function properly for the first time in a long time.

I can't wait to see how much I contradict this entry in the coming months. I will be seventeen in less than one of those months, and it's gonna be a big step... but I'll take it... and I'll take it in the highest pair of heels I have.