Though I
have doubts on this email address, I suppose I’ll fling my nonsense in
cyberspace anyway. My name is Marcie; I am fascinated with your mind. ...Don’t I
sound like a creepy stalker fan girl here... I do hope I don't seem
like everyone else to you. That would be the last thing I’d want for you
passing me up as "another one". As I said in my subject I'd like a
conversation with you. I was more fascinated by your words in the beginning of
the Johnny the Homicidal Maniac then the actual comic. Though I’ve read in an
online interview (I had to violate the internet to learn more about you, it was
irresistible) where you said what you say in the beginning was to go along with
the comic more than your actual self. But as I read it began saying what I’ve
told myself. For the past week I have been thinking about the conversations we
could have if I ever meet you. But due to my uncontrollable lack of vocabulary
when I'm talked to in person I’m slightly afraid of that day...if there
would ever be that day.
Getting
your comic was has its own story. If you ever do talk to me I will try to be as
honest as possible. Like you I like to lie. Maybe not for the same reason.
Maybe we could start a conversation on that. My reason is because through my
life there wasn’t ever anything different about it. So I made lies...but the
bad part is I’ve lost myself somewhere. I don’t know what is true or not and
there is only altered past to reflect on. Example: in 1st grade I bit a boy for
chasing me. That one part became "I bit him for the taste of blood".
There even more was added to “I was a strange little girl; I would bite
everyone for blood in 1st grade. People would call me "the biter"
(lack of originality I know) everyone was scared of me." Actually in 1st
grade I was humiliated every day. They didn’t run screaming in fear of a little
smirk, they would laugh. Hmmm... I hope I don’t turn this into a 'Moments that
Hurt, the life of Marcie" thing.
Well I’m
sure you are quite tired of reading this block of test, hard to stop typing.
It's past 11... I don’t image I’ll being going to sleep anytime soon. I like to
sleep because I can stop thinking and just watch my thoughts form into dreams.
But what I don’t like is waiting for it. I lay their...just thinking. Things
I’ve said, things I could have said all play out. One night I actually imagined
I meet you at a convention and you were signing books. I slide in front of the
person next and told you I am fascinated by your mind and I would like to
talk to you person to person. You were curious at what would happen and asked
if I would like to stay behind the table until you had time. I couldn’t get
past the people standing around your table so I crawled under the table and
stood up on my knees and folded my arm on the table and watched the people come
up and expectantly exclaim. "Homage Yoh-han I luv yooouuuu"
You’d give an annoyed sigh, perhaps correct your name. I glared up at them for
pronouncing your name wrong. And the best part is that I’d stick out from
everyone else. No piercing, no dyed hair, no chains, no spikes, no black make
up. Just a bright natural orange haired girl with a black blouse from Wal-Mart
and black cargo pants from Cato's.
Hmmm...
Maybe my white and black socks from hot topic. I like them but I slightly
resented them because they were from such a commercialized overpriced over
popular store. And for the brief moment I was in there just as they all were. I
felt so...indifferent...Hey I got off track on my story. Well I was done
anyway. OK it's time to edit, correct, and re-read my bad grammar. I have the
decency to eliminate the retardation to the best of my ability. Before I start
typing again I shall suddenly stop and eliminate the urge…wait
wait….ok….almost…*suddenly stops*
No comments:
Post a Comment