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Hollow-Holler

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February 27, 2040 - 5:10

I don't think that I ever told you about the heart-thumping chocolate licorice lentil. I just ate my last one with great flourish.
As a side-note, very translucent candies are so pretty that I can't eat them. Crystalline, you make me cream. I will pin you to my wall.
The point is not candy though, but how I never got to take my driver's license picture, because I failed my Oregon driver's examination.
Before I left, everybody said to me, that there's no way I could fail this test. And I said, but what if?
"NOOO, you will never fail."
The gentleman at the counter told me the same thing.
"You WILL not fail, Ms. Jensen."
I'm not a bad driver, though others might protest. It's just that I don't know the rules, I rely on intuition to drive my car.
I can say that now, only because I have already sobbed out the "I'm too stupid to live"'s in the Pizza Hut next to the DMV. I wept bitter tears of the impotent donkey, and dined on pizza pitifully. I could eat only a little so I did something unwise to my shivering esteem, which is to say I stole pizza from the dine-in only endless buffet. What sort of figure did I cut? Crying at a Pizza Hut, wrapping slices in napkins and smuggling them out through a purse. That's what you did, Rachael. Look at it.
I don't want to always default to such irrational extremes when I am dissapointed with myself, or frustrated. For a good part of today, I believed that I was exceptionally slow. Mentally slow. "Too stupid to do anything."
When I told Rebecca that "these (failing simple exams, and stealing pizza very sloppily) are the things that will kill me.", she suggested that I have a "mystery-lady flu", that is driving my "Mones crazy." I hope I have the Ladies Flu, and I hope it will go away by the time I'm 26.

Grant me the soul steam. Grant me the gifts. Grant me the good dream. Grant me the grits.


I say this prayer in the name of my cell-count