Posted in 365 Days of Bri (Bri 2.0)

[Day 175] Lotsa work

Dear Annabelle,

We haven’t talked in a while, but seeing you online on Facebook last night got me thinking about our friendship.

I remember when our third grade teacher announced that we would be getting a new student named Annabelle. Annabelle. Such a glamorous name. I remember thinking that you must be the most beautiful girl in the world. Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed when you came to school your first day.

Ratty, dishwasher blonde hair and barely any padding underneath your skin and on top of your bones was not what I expected. But I was a lenient kid, and we became friends.

Although your initial appearance wasn’t particularly glamorous, the rest of your life was, and that’s probably why you were the way you were. Living in that giant house having tea parties- with real china, tea, and finger sandwiches- couldn’t have made you ‘normal’.

But that’s not an excuse to be erratically selfish. You never cared about other people, only how they could service your needs, or how much attention they gave you. And I was at the forefront, wasn’t I? You fascinated me, but that wasn’t a reason to exploit me.

I’m sorry your life has left you spoiled and privileged, and that in turn has made you reckless, but don’t take it out on me.

Bri

Posted in 365 Days of Bri (Bri 2.0)

[Day 169] huh

Turning 18 is a curious thing. Without a profound election to vote in, a nicotine addiction, or a sexual desperation, I don’t have much use for this age.

Sure, I can drive as many people in my car as I want, I can talk on the phone in the car, and I can get a hotel room, but meh. I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel suddenly more mature.

I wrote a haiku that I kind of like. I don’t expect any of you to understand it, so you won’t like it as much as me. But here it is anyways:

A beam of harsh light
Looks soft in this angry sea
Leads the ships on home

It flickers but holds
And still the waves slap the rocks
In awful taunting

The ship sinks down deep
There is no more of the light
Our beacon is gone