Wish I Was

White trash, and a million other things I'm not; like the one who broke you out of your monastery. But wishing is for children and hoping is for suckers and I don't even need to consult the magic conch to know that this is already going too south. Time to flip a bitch and get all cheerleadery. So, how about middle school sense with upper school sensibilities? I remember back when I was a girl, green and blue plaid hemmed way too short, going commando in that war zone, mostly for my own satisfaction. Sometimes, I would be in the middle of mass (that's right, mass) and think, "No wonder you're cold." St. Michael and All Angels: making bff's with other moneyed wide-eyed coke-and-more addicts, black-tar heroines chewing their daily double brown bagged lunch of 100 mg of the then newly-approved Kadian in the backseat of their pre-pimped rides, pretending to be teenagers but belied by their own abandoned eyes, trying to keep from even thinking about thinking about having to go back to the place they called home; the sad sharp solitude of a Preston Hollow echo chamber: the saddest girls to ever drink straight Grey Goose from an insulated Cooper Institute mug. All of everybody had it all so rough. But me? Not me. I was like a celebrity, popular for being popular, saying all the right things at all of the right times, neither smug nor kind, but ultra fucking private, living mostly in my own head and for the benefit of no one, occasionally deigning to speak to a few tolerable ancillary amis de dejeuner: Royal Palace Chinese, nothing more, at the corner of NW Hwy/Lemmon, third booth, as soon as the lunch bell rings, and yes, bring your roach if you must. Not completely numb, I had a taste for tasting and an eye for an ear, getting down on my knees to beg for absolution. Hike up that skirt a little more. Ha, they call it giving here. I was such an adult as a child and later twisting back backwards, scoliosis maturity; growed up into a child. I got voted multiple Most This and Most That, but I never lived up to any of it.