New semester. New start.

I’m watching “Celebrity Rehab.” Seth got a crispy clear stem and chore. It’s difficult to watch. I don’t get how he’s smoking and talking. I guess it only takes a certain environment to go crazy. Smoking hard in a car sucks, but smoking it under your covers when you gotta go to school in the morning is the worst. It’s like I hit it and the paranoia flies through the roof. I hide the stem, the paranoia subsides, and I hit it really hard again, and then I’m naked, holding my breath under my pillow, blowing smoking into the pillow case so it doesn’t stink up my room and the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.

. . . 

Shit.

I just got suspended from school.

Again.

I can’t believe this just happened.

I was talking during a movie. Mrs. Dufrane, my English teacher, sent me to another classroom. When I got there, I was like, “Yeah, fuck this,” and went to lunch. So then, Mrs. Dufrane wrote up a referral and I was sent to the office. Mrs. Dufrane wasn’t really mad or anything, she’s cool, she just felt disrespected that I got up and left. I had to go see Mr. Connelly again.

As I was in his office, he was talking to me, but all I could think about was killing him with a knife.

“Bryan, you are out of control. You are out of control. That’s why people like me are hired—to control people like you. If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be allowed in any school in Broward County. Expelled last year and you just got suspended a few weeks ago. I’m suspending you again. Next time, you’re out of here — FOR GOOD!”

In my head, I think about taking a knife into his stomach and snatching out the two babies that I’m sure are in there. He’s pregnant, I know it. That fat fuck.

Mr. Connelly is fat, has short hair, tan skin, round head, pudgy lips, glasses that press into the side of his head. A gay-ass button down, jeans, some weird belt buckle, shirt tucked in and boots. He’s like a redneck, Hispanic weirdo. Normally kids would get Internal Suspension or Saturday school for shit like this. 

Not me. I’m fucking suspended.

I didn’t argue. I nodded and said okay to everything he said. There’s no point in trying to say anything.

But when he said out of control I smirked inside. He has no idea what out of control is. I imagine laying out my left arm, filling up a syringe with blood and just squirting it across his face. Hahahahaha! Faggot!

I feel stupid for getting suspended. Thank God my dad is out of town. He would have KILLED me.  Mr. Connelly called my mom. I got home and my mom was so scared. She tried to ask me about it. 

“Bryan, how could this happen again? If your dad was in town he would kill you, I can’t believe this, why did you get suspended? You left class? Something about a movie?”

“I don’t know mom. I know, I know, I know,“ I slam my bedroom door.

She said she’s not going to tell my dad.

December 8th, 2008

Still can’t believe I got suspended from school AGAIN. 

I can’t believe I’m in high school…

I saw her car at the Walgreens, Ashley. I still think about her all the time. They’re just racing thoughts that leave just as fast as they came in. But they’re still there.

I did like 40 minutes of my fourth step today. That was sweet.

I parked at the plaza near my house and now I’m journaling. The meeting starts in an hour but I felt like I had to get out of the house. I was watching “The Shawshank Redemption” today. That warden is a real piece of shit.

He’s just like Mr. Connelly, that fat fuck.

I found a chemical/gas mask on the street today. I’m going to clean it and wear it while I fuck Abigail. I can tell she’s starting to like me.