Bygones.

 By: Michael Carta.

    Oh, High School. There is a magic spell that somehow stretches time when you enter the building. Hours turn into days and days turn into lifetimes. I am able to contemplate my existence and that of the entire universe all before the lunch hour. “The future lives and learns within these walls” what a corny poster. If the future saw this place and the people in it, it would give up. Somewhere along the line of evolution a mistake was clearly made, but we just keep building off of it. I honestly think one of the main contributors to the ozone layer’s depletion is the amount of hairspray from the girl’s bathroom. I admit I was a part of that craze my first year here, but have now come to a realization since I am a senior: nothing really matters in an environment made of fake people. My prison term has been four years; I am almost free, almost set loose. I have to just get through the next few weeks then I can say goodbye to this chapter in my life and welcome the future!    

“Mary?”

“…Mary, hello?”

“Mary, do you have plans this afternoon? We have vacancy in detention if that interests you more than this class.“

“Sorry! No ma’am I am interested, I was just-“

“Just what?”

“Just distracted, but I am not anymore!”

“That’s your only warning today so keep focused. As I was saying, perspective gives us understanding. It is like a window into the mind of a creator; whether we are studying an artist, or an author. In some cases it can be a cipher that helps you crack the hidden code! I want everyone now to get with their writing partner and read the short dialog I passed out at the start of class. You are to extrapolate two possible perspectives that provide different truths from the same origin. In other words, tell me two separate things that you think the dialog is about. You have ten minutes. Mary, your group presents first so we can keep you interested. “

     So, I get up and flop into the chair next to my friend, and writing partner, Chelsea. She’s okay, not much going on in her brain, but she has been nice to me over the years. Unfortunately, she feels the need to lean in right next to you face when she talks. Close talkers bother me. I don’t much enjoy getting sprayed by spit during a conversation. It always reminds me of Jurassic park when that one little dino blinds the guy with spit. Anyways…

“Miss Pack has it out for you, Mary. I told you she’s evil. Tom says it’s because of all the pills she takes when she thinks no one is looking.”

“What? It’s not that bad, I was totally dozing off anyhow. I even drooled a little on my hand, see?”

“Uh, gross. So, what do you want to present?”

“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.“

This is the crap what we had to read:

     She was everything to me. The absolute singular center of my life, but now… Now, she’s nothing but a bygone.  All the memories of her that I have are just shards that yield only a weak remembrance towards her majesty… Oh, how I despise time and its cruel nature that continuously drives her away from me. I see slowly fading images as she is washed away year after year, and I can only laugh at how cruel it is to be left behind in this way. I have seen most of this world and have more than enough experiences with other people. I hunger for nothing but to see her again! Even though I know that will never happen; such thoughts will be my undoing. The only thing that stops me from ending my torment and my life is that I would be unable to think of her any longer. Let bygones be bygones they say… What the hell do they know?  They know nothing of her… She was too pure, too innocent, and too perfect to be held to their standards. 

     How could I have been so easily mislead? How could I have been so careless as to fall in love. I let my guard down and will forever bear the consequence. With all of this in mind I say to you; be mindful at every turn you take and every word you speak. She is out there lurking… stalking… waiting for you to be vulnerable, to be fragile, open to love. And in that moment, when she catches you, you will experience such bliss that all the troubles of the world fade, but again I say to you; be mindful at every turn you take and every word you speak. Oh, my boy. She is out there and she will find you… of that I am certain. 

“Wow, sounds like a really grumpy old man writing to his son about his dead wife. “

“Hah, yeah maybe. Or, he was writing about drugs. Don’t ya think it’s odd how similar addiction and love are? “

“Uh, no. Here you go again, Mary. Off on one of your tyrants.”

“It’s a rant not a tyrant. Anyway, read it again and pretend he is a drug addict, it all makes sense. In other words; love is just an emotional drug, or a fix that takes a hold of you like any other substance we’ve learned about. He is simply warning the future youth to stay away from such dangers and pitfalls.”

“Oh, really? Are you making these parallels because Jimmy asked Stacey to prom instead of you?”

“No… whatever. “

“Sorry Mary… Look, without love your parents would not have made you, so be thankful that some people get addicted to such things!”

“Gross, thanks for the image. “

      God, Chelsea always does that. Brings up something not relevant and just spoils the mood. That and her close talking made me think about how fun it would be to test gravity by jumping through the window.

      I won’t tell you how the presentation went because it sucked. I tend to get nervous for no real reason other than my brain thinks I should be nervous. Thanks brain. Anyway, this is my last entry in this diary and like the old man in the dialog, I am jaded. This moment too will be a bygone soon enough; it will fade and diminish. Though, I am not afraid of such things. Not all of me is jaded! Life and nature are awesome things and they will come as they are. We have the honor of riding the waves of time; be thankful for the ride, however short it may seem.