i'm a special boy

Dear Blog,

I just finished some Christmas shopping and got to play Rock Band again. That made me happy on the very inside. I still haven't finished all my shopping, which is small due to my absent income. I bought Superbad for myself and lolzed along with my friends.

Wal-Mart is bad. Don't shop there no more.

I'm very concerned about this college switching thing. I know it's the only thing I've ever been thinking about lately, but it's very important. I know that I should leave here but I have no knowledge that Webster will be a success. I will have to be much more independent than I'm used to being. It could be bad times for a bit. I'm scared to stop going to school with Kyle. We've always had each other's backs. I don't know if I can do school without him. It won't be the same. We'll be further apart than I'd like.

I feel like next year is shaping up to be far too decisive and unpredictable. I have no idea where everyone is going to end up. But, some of our decisions next year will affect us for the rest of our lives in a significant way. That scares the shit straight out of me. Why does it all have to come so soon?

As further proof of my desire to leave; here's a poem I wrote after chapel today about how I hate the school and how it operates.


I've got Christian moms in acid-washed jeans
Thumping bibles at little, old me
It doesn't help that they're just nineteen
This place isn't what I thought it ought to be

They clamp open your mouth and ears with righteous hands
Pouring in sick, sharp thorns and the blood of their man
They dance and weep like it's a promised land
Communities with rule books demand I cut off my right hand

The girls in a greenhouse, like precious virgin flowers
Not to be scandalized until the proper hour
They are forbidden to go near the animal man's tower
They think this gives them holy light and all-consuming power

I'll tell you one thing about their damn upturned noses
They never have the time to stop and smell forbidden roses
I will roll in debauchery until the smell imposes
All their rules, heads in asses, that keep the time line frozen

Holy Moses, all their prayer is making me pull hairs
They've got some morals, so they might as well share
Shoving everything together in a garish flare
So that when they bend you over, everyone can stare

Scribbling and sweating over folded notes to Jesus
Treating us like children, thinking songs are gonna please us
I'm tired of the flashing warnings speaking of diseases
Do you think I could escape on one of those right wing rant breezes?


Yours,
B Morgz