Smells Like Halloween

I just went to Salty Peaks, a shop on 3300 South by Skyline High School.  I left the shop $106.80 poorer but with a skateboard in hand.
 
Now I have to practice up…  The guy there suggested practicing on a carpet or on the grass.  I didn’t want to lose any extra money on pads or a helmet…  Maybe later.
 
Well, I surely could’ve gotten a cheaper one used or something, but I had to act fast before I forgot the idea.  It came to me while watching a certain music video today showing some skateboarding…
 
In case I say no more about that old funeral, let me mention its final detail: as the casket made its way from the Conference Center to the cemetery, the audience sang a verse of hymn #19, and those that had waved their kerchiefs.
 
What else has happened…….
 
Well, I’m not friends anymore with my friend, who has preferred to spend no more time with me this whole month, except using me once for a ride to Provo.  My most fervent wish now is that I can go back in time 3 years and strangle myself for being so mentally absent as to ever give any part of myself to that girl.  She has taken everything, and walked away.  Like a deluded believer, I held on to her falsity for too long…
 
Anyway, maybe I’m still deluded.  I still love her, more than anything (although I think I’m fast forgetting what "love" means).  But I hate how she she treats me now: as a stranger.
 
My life is nothing anymore.  I’m lucky my lungs work on their own, else I would have no more energy to even take another breath.  She has left me so broken.  I loved her so much…  I’ve needed her support and her caring so many, many times during my trials; but she didn’t give it, and I’ve been overcome by my opposition.  But she’ll never change back, never care again… so we have to be friends, then distant friends, then former friends, then finally… nothing at all.  …Because she lost herself… she fell off a cliff… and pulled me with her.  She’s a clone now; I’m a zombie.
 
So this "life" is no life; but still I keep waking up and daily putting the fantasy of another day into my head.  This is all so useless.  I have no future besides the one she sacrificed so long ago, all because I "wasn’t perfectly right" for her… because I was "boring"… because she wanted somebody "weird", who "loved concerts"… but mostly because I didn’t love her soon enough, and she ran out of patience… permanently.
 
Well, as she once predicted, I have now seen in person how "hideous" she actually is, how contemptuously she can treat one she once loved.  She acts like she’s ashamed that I was a part of her life…  Sometimes I’m sure I would save Hitler over her.  People rarely deserve anything; yet I deserve so much better than her.  But whether or not my true love, betrayed, ever turns to true hatred… my heart is still bound to her with an iron chain; and I know I’m too weak to refuse her if she ever needs to use me again, for anything… even just for an extra wedding gift someday.
 
So I just try to pretend "everything’s fine" if I ever see her or talk to her, which is practically never.
 
Oh… I would give everything I owned if only I could………… touch hearts with her again, and communicate sincerely, like before… if we could trust each other with our true thoughts again, without fear of criticism or rejection…  But she doesn’t understand how much that would mean to me; so it will never happen.
 
So.
 
I dropped my one class; I can’t remember if I wrote it already.  That was some time ago.  But now, anyway, I’m about to drop my other class, leaving only one, because I can’t endure the shameless crassness of my Marriage and Family teacher, who has spent the past few weeks teaching "sex".  He’s just so gross…  I can’t stand it anymore.  My religion is so very different from his, which forbids such vulgar public treatment of the subject.  Besides that, I already disliked him for swearing in the class and defending it by saying "It’s in the Bible!"  (He was correct with only one of his two words.)  And several other complaints I’ve accumulated against him.  Anyway, since I’ve hated the class, I haven’t had any desire at all to keep up with the work; so withdrawal is a foregone decision.
 
At first, I wanted to drop my third class also and just get away from that school and all its many offenses… but the third class is my scripture class, and I do intend to finish my studies eventually, so if I can stand it, I’d better just finish it now instead of later.
 
A couple weeks back, Monde’s African friend asked for a ride home, and she brought with her her friend Marcela the Bolivian.  So I drove all three of them.
 
The week of Saint Valentine’s Day, the school library had a quiz contest.  The quiz was library-focused, five or six questions about which source contained which relationship tidbit.  My answers were comprehensive, and there were only a dozen or so entries… so I won the first prize, which was a date basket for two: an uncooked spaghetti dinner, a DVD, unpopped popcorn, and a bunch of chocolates.  I lamented to the library staff about the tragedy of having to enjoy the prize alone.  But enjoy it I did…  Actually, I shared the noodles and sauce with my family last week.
 
Someone had a camera, so on my suggestion, they took a somewhat ugly picture of me; then of their own free will they put it up on their webpage, along with pictures they got of two of the other winners, and our names.
 
…Oh, fine.  Now they’ve taken it down.  I think it was still there yesterday.  No point in linking to it then…  I’ll try to get a copy of it.
 
Ah… I’ll surely be alone forever.  I can never hazard another love; and there have been none worth loving, and may never be again.
 
My mom just said she’s never seen an adult on a skateboard.  I told her she was going to see the first, then.
 
Well, my life is in ruins; because a man’s life consists of what he loves, and my love forsook me.
 
What else…?  I turned 26 some days ago; it was nice.  I paid my car insurance…  I lent some money.  I’m waiting on two people to pay me back.  I’ll survive without it, anyway, much as I’ll survive without the skateboard fee.

Oh… I went to "LDSBC Idol", a singing contest, last Friday.  It was fun; I was the only one in the audience to leave with my hearing unimpaired (except maybe one old woman who might’ve had none left to impair) since I’d gone out and gotten my airport earplugs as soon as the music started.  Luciana, the friend of Jennifer and Marcela, played a great song on her guitar; and another guy, Nate Baldwin, did an excellent guitar song.  The three finalists were a guy named Chris, one Javier, and a duo, Nic and Graham — Chris sang, and the others had their little guitars.  They all performed very well.  So did the others…  I’m proud of all of them.

 
My mom helped me figure out my taxes last week.  I’ll submit them later.  I owe nothing.  Stupid government; I’m glad I don’t have to support their idiocy this year, their abortions and welfare and gayness and whoremongering and cowardliness.  God bless the Muslims to scourge this fallen people… or our domestic enemies, or whatever.  Babylon the great is falling.
 
Ah… woe is me.  I had potential; but there’s nothing left to live for now, except life itself, which obligation I can’t escape.  If I could, I would.
 
Ah, this poor world.  If I live for nothing, how much less does this ignorant world live for?  I pity these people terribly…  You, reader, I pity you.  You and your race are so, so stupid and blind.  You know so little of what you think you know.  You live lives without meaning; you brainlessly follow your scripts; your life successes are like the vanishing windshield frost in the morning; your failures, well, at least they count for something.  And this life is not terribly important to find meaning in, I admit: it gets you no farther ahead and puts you no more behind, not in this world.  …But if any of you have found true love, and have given your entire self to it, then you alone have lived purposefully, and you have the respect of this writer who respects nobody.
 
And so… maybe… in my own eternal failure, the loss of my heart… I will have found my only real success.
 
Well, when I go, somebody tell the mortician to twist my mouth up into a smile.  It will be my truest sermon.
 
-Steve
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