as our first definitive actions as eighteen year olds, the mollface (mentioned again) and i drove to annapolis to punch holes in ourselves. all by ourselves. no padres to be found. it was liberating.

then, upon the realization that neither of us had ever had banana splits, we treated ourselves to those instead of dinner. they were huge. but good. and our ears didn't even hurt. and we talked about angel and looking out to see. like we always do. and i got myself a photo album. and we swapped stories. and caught up. and our ears still didn't hurt.

and we had grand ideas of movie-watching, but we didn't even make it through 20 minutes of big fish before i had missed half the important parts. whoops. but we slept. and our ears still felt only pinched.

i'm home now. and i can't stop playing with my earring, twisting it this way and that. my gramma hates it. but i'm The Bad One already and what can i do to fix that? nothing. i did nothing to deserve the label, and clumsy attempts to retrieve my fallen crown only dig me deeper. so i twist my earring and hum to myself and let the adults think i've gone mad.

things are just best that way.

lockdown.

~~~~~

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