Actor, Actor, you've missed your cue.

Dear Danielle,

Sometimes, I think I really fucking hate you. You come in and sit down- every fucking morning. Then you crack a joke about being crazy. Someone asks you how you are and you tell them that you're 'Very Rare, in fact- probably still bleeding.' Oh- and 'In need of more salt.' You disguise the misery in your eyes with a sense of snide disgust that makes me want to drag my nails through your cranium.

Then you open up that damn book, and dive into your school work. It's easy to forget that is what you're doing, because your eyes seem to light up and sparkle as you do. You write so fast, so sloppily, I'd like to break your fingertips and teach you how to write again. It couldn't get any worse than it is now. But that isn't the point, the point is- you look so dedicated when you work. So enlightened. I think you love school more than you love any of us.

In fact, I know you do, because you don't cuss at your books. You don't bare your teeth and growl at your teachers. You don't look those words in the eyes and tell them that you hate the ground they walk upon. Danielle, if this is how you treat your friends- I'd hate to know how you treat your enemies.

Most of the time though, I adore you. I adore the way you laugh at all the jokes that aren't funny. The way you sing under your breath when you think no one is listening. I love the fact that you've been through so damn much, that you don't care anymore. That you laugh when the little emo's pass by, the way you sneer when they bother to confront you.

I don't understand how you can walk through the hallways in a pirate suit. You don't even bat an eyelid at their laughter,but the last guy to make a joke almost got sent to the hospital. Which scares me, because you didn't even bother to look guilty. You just simply got away with it, the way you get away with everything. Coming in late to class, sleeping in the hallways, dropping books on people's heads.

Your smile makes me want to cringe, because I've learned by now that some insult will follow it. You hate everything, you love everything. You contradict yourself so much, no body knows where they stand anymore. Your tears only bring a sense of accomplishment, followed by guilt and sympathy.

But I think I've also learned that all your tears are fake.

You've told me one too many times that you're an actor and that this world is your stage.
Is that your excuse for playing the heart strings of the weak? For shoving the strong down?

For making us all doubt everything?
-Maddie.