shields of ice

I was informed several minutes ago by Padhraig that he had a very intriguing dream about me last night. Apparently I let loose a series of insults loud enough to induce ear-bleeding because he had burned something while among the kitchen-esque surroundings, and eventually I began to chase him -- inanimate object/makeshift weapon slug over my shoulder -- with the intent of mercilessly beating his skull into a bloody nub.

I smirked vaguely in amusement upon discovering this, suddenly recalling how a conversation I had with Nick last Thursday played out. As we waited for my parents to arrive and give us both rides home, he explained to me with mock horror illuminated in his eyes that he had had a nightmare in which I'd attempted to strangle him.

I distinctly remember grimacing with a bewildered snort and replying earnestly, 'I'd never do that.'

'I know,' Nick had agreed wholeheartedly, nodding shallowly in response.

'Strangling leaves evidence,' I immediately added.

I have a premonition that this diary will come back to haunt me approximately ten years from now during a court hearing, a hearing I will be forced to attend because some drug-hazed fool will try in vain to pin the blame upon me in the context of a murder trial. I must incriminate myself daily, considering I've probably convinced everyone reading my observations that I slice open the necks of those who spite me and finger-paint a mural with the blood. In actuality, hearing about hemophilia, bones protruding from open wounds, rupturing blood vessels, bruises, or anything of that sort makes me so sick to my stomach that sometimes I come within a breath of passing out onto the floor.

I also heard Nick rattle off other points of interest last Thursday, one of them being that I guess he often overhears peers commenting on my personality and whatnot. Whether or not my classmates are talkin' smack about me matters little, as judgments formulated regarding my character don't faze me. Hell, someone could convince every student within the entire school that I was an ice cream man-raping lesbian and I'd shrug it off and frolic joyously on my merry way. Thus, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I was slightly saddened when I heard that others have been claiming that I'm spooky and that I must not have any friends.

I frequently gather word that I appear frigid and cruel, but with my severe lack of friends and such, it doesn't seem like I'm left with much choice. I can either stare blankly into space and pretend to be absorbing the lecture topic, or I can grin like the word 'dumbass' is embroidered onto my forehead while no one's talking to me. So, that presents me with a choice: I can either be hauntingly chilly, or I can be a psychotic flower child.

Even when I had a mammoth ring of friends, I didn't understand how I was supposed to reveal to those unfamiliar with my sense of humor that I actually care.

I'll take the impenetrable shield of ice, thanks.