relics.

I found an old bracelet and matching necklace today and decided to wear them. Sitting here thinking about it, I realize that nearly ten years have passed since you gave them to me. You're long-since buried, and so is the store where we bought them. Glistening sublimely on my arm, I remember wearing the bracelet to special occasions over the years. Nice college banquets. Holiday get-togethers with family. Weddings. Graduation parties.

Then, I remember forgetting about this jewelry's very existence. I let it slip to the bottom of one of my drawers, where jewelry goes to die. I stopped wearing bracelets altogether. I started wearing necklaces from men who make promises as flimsy as the thin gold chains that they offer. But this jewelry set has waited for me. It's been patient. And as it shines brighter than anything I've acquired recently, it makes me miss you. With or without the jewelry, though, I probably always will.

tail lights.

We'll still see one another. Nothing's really going to change. We should get drinks some time. It'll all be fine.

Except, it won't. Well, maybe it will be fine. Maybe we'll still see one another. Maybe we'll even get that drink. But it's never going to be the same, and I realize that as your wheels spin away and your tail lights fade into one, tiny red dot on the horizon.

second best.

You asked me last night--aren't you the class valedictorian this time? No pressure there. I said, no. I'm not even graduating cum laude. You said, oh. Well. What happened? Why didn't we do well this time?

First off, WE didn't do anything. YOU put on your pajamas three years ago and went into hibernation, coming out only to call me, on average, one thousand times a day to guilt me about not being at home, not spending time with you, and not doing better than my snot-nosed 18-year-old cousin is doing in her FIRST YEAR as a FASHION DESIGN MAJOR. During that time, you forgot that I already graduated college TWO YEARS AHEAD OF EVERYONE ELSE with TWO MAJORS and a 4.0 GPA.

Second, doesn't it get lonely up there, looking down on me? Never mind that you've been unemployed for decades now. You will always be better.

Then, you say, let's have a party! You can "invite your little friends!" Well, that would be a swingin' good time. You'll sit off to the sidelines with my ancient aunts and complain about how I'm a failure because I'm not the valedictorian. They will antagonize me with the aforementioned cousin. You won't approve of the friends who would brave meeting you, and they will be miserable. And when we all get there, what are we going to do? Play with Barbie dolls and sing kumbaya?

Too little, too late. You can't be anywhere near as disappointed with me as I am with you.

Lost.

I have two weeks left of life as I know it.

For the past seven years, I have been in college or grad school. Seven. Before that, I went through twelve years of regular schooling. So now, as I wrap up the nineteenth grade, I'm starting to wonder about myself. Sure, I'm tired of doing homework. I'm also tired of going to class, smiling at people I hate who hate me back; tired of working a crappy job for crappy pay, and having to be grateful for it because that crappy job is the best I can hope to do in our economy without a professional degree.

Notwithstanding all of that, I'm not sure what I'm ever going to do with myself. Yes, the bar is coming, and I will have another three months of studying. But then what? Will it be a relief to come home and not face homework? I think it might be more stressful. After all, without being foreced to do something, what will I ever do with myself?

Hatch, already.

The worst part of any holiday, for me, is the anticipation. You know, that impending misery of spending hours upon hours with people you have spent your whole life trying to escape. Well, maybe you don't know. For most people, today is a happy day to spend with people you love. I guess my problem is a general lack of people I love, let alone love spending time with.

But once the anticipation is over, and I'm driving here, it's not so bad. Then it's just a survivor race. How long can I stand being badgered, criticized, and annoyed? Four hours? Five? An entire day? A week? If I make it an endurance test, a game, it's not so bad. If I don't, the anticipation is justified, and then we're back to square one.

Sauna.

I must stop spending money. This month, I will not buy any more clothes. I will not buy any shoes. Last month, I probably spent $1,000 on clothes...some of these will be very useful (for example, the summer-weight suit). Others, I will probably forget I bought them a month or two from now. They will go to the back of my closet to die, like all their impractical brethren.

This month, when I feel the need to buy something, I will go to the gym instead. That ought to kill the old shopping habit.

This summer, things are going to be terrible. A special kind of mind-numbing, God-I-wish-I-would-have-picked-another-profession terrible. I need to get used to living on very little, and entertaining myself very infrequently. It also wouldn't hurt to lose a couple of pounds. Although, it's going to be kind of disheartening when I have to buy another new wardrobe.