School ended and I didn’t even die. I am now an independent blogger. I am presently neither funded nor endorsed by The Man and have the option of acting accordingly. I’m too embarrassed to use the F word on here in case my grandma googles me, though, and that’s the only form of rebellion I can actually think of.
EXCEPT STEALING.
I’ve been waiting a long time to get this off my chest...
THE INCIDENT:
A few weeks before the end of school I was in the campus store. I was hungry and I had five dollars. I wanted chili. That’s all I ever want. It was only 2.99 but I was so overcome by embarrassment that I couldn’t bring myself to be spotted at the checkout with it. This was partially because I was carrying a fake Chanel bag at the time and I knew proximity to a Hormel can would cut its believability by at least half. So I stole it. I crammed it into my Chanel and bought an apple to throw Mariela off my tracks. This is how I envisioned that going:
Mariela’s Inner Voice: “That girl probably just stole a can of chili.”
Mariela’s More Rational Yet Sassy Inner Voice : “Real talk girl, that’s impossible because now she is buying an apple. A) the kinds of girls who eat apples for aFtErNoOn sNaCk don’t eat chili B) the kinds of girls who eat chili don’t even go to this school.”
It worked. I walked home, shoulders slumped and head hung low, and when I got there I popped it in the mircrowave and ate it in front of chat roulette. I had gotten over the majority of the guilt after a few days… and then something happened that can only be described as Retribution. Three days after The Incident I stumbled upon a mysterious screen shot saved on my desktop… and I don’t even know how to do screen shots. I really shouldn’t be showing you this:
I had to blur my face for the same reason you can’t look into the eyes of the snake on Indiana Jones. Anyway, the whole ordeal left me with a similar feeling to that which a girl gets when she’s using a toilet seat cover to smudge surplus Neosporin off her beard burn in the TJ Maxx bathroom. (You know what you did.) (I’m talking to myself.)
I’m lying alone in a hostel bed in LA Fashion District eating an abandoned microwave burrito that I found in the freezer. I’m listening peacefully to someone throw up in the communal bathroom. I’m sorry for his loss. I’ll tell you how I got here later, but now that I’ve sufficiently Tiger Woods-ed myself, I think I’ll gracefully bow out. I’ll return shortly with the previously scheduled sparkles and sunshine. I’m looking forward to these infinite tomorrows... because I think my future might actually be bright.
xx
