Cimmerian. It's a big word that I just learned about five seconds ago. Even the computer didn't know it, said I spelled it wrong when I typed it up =.=
But don't get onto me about not writing every single day like I used to. Life gets complicated - so complicated, in fact, that I don't really care about Alisa anymore. She's still there, hiding in the shadows of her hair that now hangs over her eyes, watching me and waiting for the right time to strike, like a snake in the grass. She doesn't care who lives and who dies, she just knows one of us has to go. For now, she's laying low, waiting for another way to physically or emotionally make a hit.
Yesterday I was passing notes with my friends in my handwritten journal during a Mythbusters episode we were watching for Science. However, the DVD player in the Science room had stopped working, so we switched rooms with Exploratory Math, but we didn't switch teachers. So we had our Math teacher supervising us while we were watching Mythbusters.
But anyways, I'd already seen the episode before, so I decided to write Airianna a note.
"Hey, I've already seen this one before, so I know what happens. Truck bedliner is not crashproof, but it does make a good dog suit XD"
"Yeah," she wrote back. "Me too... It's kinda boring in the first place."
"True, true. Do you think Angel feels left out?"
She was watching the note exchange the whole time, and we could all easily pass notes because she was sitting right next to Airianna.
Airianna wrote back, "I have no clue," and scribbled in huge letters, "HI ANGEL!" and passed the journal to her.
"Heyyy," Angel scratched with her pen. "Whatcha doin'?"
"What does it look like? We're passing notes, DERP." I rolled my eyes.
"What's a derp?"
"OH MA GEE. It's another version of DUH."
"Ohhh..." I saw it slowly dawn on her face, and I shook my head and sighed.
"Seriously. But anyways, happy weekend day!"
"What?" Angel asked.
"What do you mean, what? Exactly what I said!"
Airianna wrote, "I think she wrote 'happy weekend day' or something like that."
"Ohh, I see it now. I thought those were just random scribbles."
Apparently my handwriting was not legible, which would definitely pay off in a few moments.
"Yeap," Airianna scratched down quickly, and passed the journal back to me.
"'Yeap'?" I asked. "What in the world is 'yeap' supposed to mean?"
Just then, the Math teacher came over. She picked up THE ENTIRE JOURNAL, and said very loudly for everyone to hear, "Oh, good reading material for me!"
And then she sat down at her desk, flipped to the very beginning of the entire journal, and began to read it.
Or, more like, attempted to read it. When I write for my own purposes, my handwriting is supposedly illegible and extremely difficult to decipher.
As soon as she took it out of my hands, my mouth fell wide open and I went into freakout mode.
"Airianna," I choked out, obviously about to cry. "She took my journal." My voice was just barely a whisper.
"What, does it have something about her in it?" she asked.
"No... But..." I buried my face in my hands. I could feel the back of my neck burning in embarrassment and my face was turning red.

Does anyone still remember that entry or that day when my dad caught me drawing a nearly naked Amy? Well, let's say that I crafted a much more mature scene next to the nightlight, while listening to "Lose Control" and "Snow White Queen" on repeat. This was about four days ago now, and I think it was somewhere near midnight. I was delirious from lack of sleep, and I started singing the words to the songs quietly, and I slurred every letter while I drew.
But, the problem is that I drew it IN MY JOURNAL, which I take with me everywhere - except for outside, to lunch, and into the girls' locker rooms for Gym.
Of course, my Math teacher would rather look at the pictures I drew in my journal than try to decipher my chicken-scratch handwriting. She flipped through the pages, and when she saw some sort of fairy-looking girl with a huge knife through her head, she held it up for the entire class to see and said, "Ooh, pretty picture!"
My panicked mind interpreted her tone of voice wrong, and to me it sounded like she was mocking me. Plus, I didn't have my glasses on, my eyes were watering, and the room was darkened, so I couldn't see which picture she held up. I thought she held up the picture of Amy and I, together at last, so the whole world would know exactly how screwed up I am.
Then, I really started crying. Airianna moved over to my left so I could sit in between her and Angel, and they both half-hugged me so they wouldn't get in trouble for PDA or breaking the "hug rules". I didn't try to shake them off - I seriously needed the comfort right then.

About ten minutes later, Mrs. Math Teacher pulled me out in the hallway to talk about the drawings in my journal.
"Hey, don't cry, you're fine, it's just a journal," was the first thing she said.
"It's not just A journal, it's MY journal," I sobbed. "And I shouldn't - it's not -" I couldn't get out an entire sentence. For all I knew, she could've flipped right past that page.
"So, I couldn't read your handwriting; and judging by the way you're crying, I supposed you're very happy about that." Mrs. Math Teacher looked down her nose at me.
I nodded fervently. Sometimes I really freak myself out. I'm disturbing, I know, I know. I take much more pride in being weird, though; there is nothing to be proud about when you're both freaky and disturbing.
"So I couldn't read much of anything," she continued. "But I did look at the pictures, and I see there's a lot of Grim Reaper stuff in here," she said. She pointed at the drawing of my chibi dancing around on Thanatos's scythe like it was a pole. The caption read, "I should totally marry Thanatos. Aren't we just cute together? :3"
"But that's perfectly normal for a girl your age." Mrs. Math was giving me the same speech I'd had from my aunt, my mom, my dad, AND the school counselor. Unfortunately, she had no clue, so she put me through the same torture for the millionth time in a row.
"And there's this, too," she kept on, this time pointing at the page she'd held up earlier for the whole class to see. "And I understand this connects with the Grim Reaper stuff."
I couldn't think of anything to say, just like when my mom gives me those hour-long lectures on the way to school about how I make us late every single day. Argh.
"But then... Then there's this." I watched her pass the song I wrote when I was seven, the page with the AMDA pen I drew, and then on the back of the page...was "the picture".
She'd seen it.
And she did not like it at all.
At ALL.
"You should NOT be drawing ANYTHING like this, do you understand me?" Her voice was no longer soft and comforting, it was now full of venom that probably came from deep religious beliefs and old prejudices.
"You are 14 years old," she continued, her face serious and her gaze stone-cold.
I tried to shrink into nothingness, to melt into the floor and disappear, to dissolve in a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder. I just wanted out of there, right away.
Reluctantly, I looked at the page she was holding open. It looked nothing like the beautiful scene from my dream that I'd crafted in what I imagined to be flickering candlelight, when really it was just a nightlight that needed a new bulb very badly. In the hallway outside the Math room under the harsh fluorescent lighting, it looked just plain wrong.
"If you don't go home and burn this tonight, the good Almighty Lord God is going to take your life and send you away to the place beneath our feet," she hissed.
Great. My Math teacher is a religious freak and preaches about God and Lord God Jesus Christ and whatnot. She must think I'm a child of Satan himself.
"Take your disgusting journal and get back in your seat." She shoved the journal back into my arms and stormed back inside the room.

I sat there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. I thought she was nice at first, but now...
I shook my head. I know better than to trust people like that. I was mourning over Alisa's near death experience, and then when she came back and decided to tell everyone that I'm bisexual, I wished that NDE hadn't been "near". I wish it would've really happened. If she would've died, I might've been depressed for a while, but I would've gotten over it. Would've made my life better than it is right now, that's for sure.

Slowly, I trudged back into the Math room, sat down in the very back, and cried all over Airianna and Angel. I hope they didn't mind it.

This is 2012 now.
This is a new age.
Something deep, dark, and deadly, like a poison dart.
Something...cimmerian. The word that I learned about ten minutes ago now.

In Language, we were given an assignment to ring in the new year. We had to write a paragraph on what we learned last year.
I scribbled on my lined notebook paper:
"I learned that one of my closest friends is really my worst enemy. I was stupid to keep her closer to me than anyone else. I almost let her ruin my life. I resorted to physically fighting to get her to stop her scheming.
I also learned that many people have old prejudices. They never see what people are really like - all they do is find out one more thing about them, and if they don't like it, you're in trouble.
The third thing I learned is that anyone can strike at any time, with any rumor they may have heard, or a scrap of paper that fell out of your binder, or an overheard whispered conversation. And every single time, it's like they suddenly came out of the shadows and chopped you into a million little bloody pieces with a rusty knife.
Another thing...
...is that dead is a state of mind.
Your heart doesn't have to be silent for you to be dead. You can feel as if you are dead, and practically be a zombie.
Because of all the things I didn't know in 2011 that I do know now, I've been dead for a while now.
Don't bother trying.
It's pointless..."

The bad thing is, I wrote it in pen, so I couldn't change what it was, and we only had about fifteen minutes to write about it.
So. That was my first grade in Language for the semester. Surprisingly, I got a 100% on it.

If only it were that easy to convince people that you're not the child of Satan.