I'm Not Crazy

~15~ Manic Monday

I wish it was Sunday
'Cause that's my fun day!
My I don't have to run day
It's just another manic Monday...

Manic Monday ~ The Bangles

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Monday - June 1st

I wake up early on Monday morning with an ill sense of foreboding. I used to love school, the clamor of competitiveness, the noise of knowledge, the smell of dry erasers. Yes, even all the unnecessary homework. But for the first time, I am actually dreaded going back to school to face my fears.

That old familiar doom-n-gloom of dread has settled in so comfortably over my life. Knowing all the looks I know I was going to get today in the hallways. The one all those weird looks that kids who fly their freaks flags get. How some people look at Stevie sometimes, and especially Billy, even though he could clearly care less.

The plethora of taunts that will haunt me as the girl who tripped balls in the halls. Who completely lost her shit over a silly stupid necklace. I can already hear the litany of mean new nicknames in my head, The Crazy Girl, Sister McCrazy, O'Really Mental Meltdown. And the list could go on and on and on, and that was before THAT other crap that Stevie dropped on me last night.

Here I was mistakenly thinking that the hardest part of my post-meltdown me was going to be trying to figure out what happened and why? But now I have something infinitely worse to face than my pending insanity. And THAT something is not sitting well with me at all.

The only upside at all so far is that at least I have a horrible new replacement necklace for my memento mori. The much thicker silver killer biker chain is apparently a leftover from Tommy's white trash punk rock ghetto gangster pimp phase. Which makes sense, seeing that it looks like you could beat someone to death with this monstrosity.

So I'm thinking this bad boy is probably a leftover Valentines Day gift from one of Tommy's many broken leftovers. Some poor girl, whoever she may be, probably just wanted to be Sid and Nancy. But unfortunately for her, she ultimately found out she was banging Johnny Rotten instead. Safe to say, that no one ever wants to be Mrs. Rotten.

As horrendous a display of bad taste as the beater is? It still gives me comfort and solace knowing my wings are much safer than before. Maybe this is how Catholics feel about their grandmother's rosaries? Or the Buddhist feel about their Bodi Malas prayer beads? Like the "Free Tibet" ones I wear, now that I am between gods.

"Are you ready to go, Sam?" My best-friend Mom asks all super pensively hovering by the door to my room. 

"Nope, but I am still going anyways," I reply with all the fake determination I can muster. Before she can start telling me all about doing my best to face my fears.

You know, because all the other kids will be totally understanding that I just needed to take a little mental break from it all? So I'm super sure they'll all be uber cool and super supportive. As they will all rally around me in my new quest for mental wellness. Because the kids at my school are way different than all those cruel kids at those other schools. You know, like everywhere else in the world?

**I mean what could possibly go wrong, right?** I mentally ask the girl in the mirror.

**Ah duh, how about pretty much everything that can go wrong, will go wrong? Trust me, you'll be lucky to even live through this day with a shred of your sanity intact.** She reassures me sadly.