I was real upset when I was writing my last journal, which I why I stopped midway through what I wanted to write. I'm a bit better now, but what I've gone through the last few weeks isn't something that just goes away I suppose?

When I went to see my grandparents the day after mom and I went back to Minnesota the cold hard reality of my grandfather's condition just hit me as had as the cold winter wind.

He had always been a healthy and active guy, and now he was this emaciated person who bore little resemblance to the man who used to take me fishing and play catch for hours on end.

Tell me, what do you think about when
the debutante moon has lost her charm
and there's nothing on TV to keep you up past 11 o'clock?
Do your eyes glaze over, remembering
how I used to hold your head on my knee and rake my
fingers through your yellow hair, baby?
Does your chest burn like a joint in the night with
the absurd memory of my mouth pressed to your
shadowy abdomen under turquoise plastic stars?
David, it was heaven, making you come undone!
You were dirty and beautiful; a clean-cut
little show choir first date gone wrong.

And I know I said you weren't my type

I got my third college acceptance letter last week, so that was nice. I am not going to that school, though, but I'm still glad I got accepted. I know I'm not going to that one because on Saturday morning, I got a fourth letter. This one was from Boston University. Not only did I get into BU, but I also got their Presidential Scholarship along with an absolutely AMAZING financial aid package. I'm so happy!

i remember when you told me

once or twice, that you left a spot next to you in bed every night

1200 miles (well it’s actually 1267, you’d chime in) away

and yet you kept a space there

in case I, sleepily, crept into your arms in the midst of the night

to sleep

breathe

rest with you

now it is i, 1200 miles away

who leaves a spot for you every sleepless night

my bed’s not big enough for your 6’2” body

and definitely not your dick,

i’d say, like always, ever-the-immature-one

and we’d laugh just like before, your childlike giggle

Where are you? Your voice
has escaped from me and
I worry that when I
look inside my heart
and call for you,
you will not
hear.

You are missing from me,
and sometimes loving
you is like hearing
they found a dead
child on the news,
only they don't
announce the
name.

So I stay afire, after dark, waiting
for your voice on the telephone
and ink marks forming
letters on hospital
stationary.

I just want to open the doors
to all the haunted houses
inside you and say
"I'm home."

(http://youtu.be/s1tAYmMjLdY ♡)

The day that I wrote my last journal entry I handed in my science class project, and two poster presentation on the fermentation of grains to make alcohol. It took me two weeks to make and I thought it was a good effort by me.

Wow was I wrong!

On Monday my teacher told me she needed to talk to me, which surprised me a bit because I'm a good student in her class, and I'm never in trouble.

"Riley, you're project is not appropriate for your grade level or age. You'll have a week to turn in another "acceptable" one or you'll be given a zero for the assignment."

I just wrote, costumed, casted, filmed, and edited a movie in 72 hours. And that's over the course of three school nights.
Why, you might ask? I'll tell you why. Because my Mythological Figures composition presentation is going to be the standard by which all Mythological Figures composition presentation Mythological Figures composition presentations are graded. It is going to be the presentation that Mr. fucking Richards is going to talk about for the rest of his life. And it is going to get an indisputable A.