ENTRY II. Diary
Lately I’ve been feeling lost, like I don’t know what my next step is. I know that I’m at a good place in my life — I’ve managed to do a lot in a short amount of time and I’m really grateful. But something about it all doesn’t feel quite right. I can’t figure it out, I can’t put my finger on it and it’s really starting to eat at me. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t talk anymore. I mean, I talk to myself a lot — I hear the voice in my head and it fights with itself a lot, but I can’t remember the sound of my own voice. I don’t speak up and my opinions are unknown even to me. Let’s fix that, please.
PART III.
Friends are like puzzle pieces. Or like historians of our past, specializing in a very small portion of our timeline. Every person we come across is entrusted with a small piece of our history and left to do with it what they will. At best, we can hold onto a handful of these people, put the pieces together and see a vague picture of our lives.
But the street goes both ways. They need us as much as we need them. We have been handed over an integral piece of their puzzle too and we have to treasure it like we hope they treasure what we’ve given them. It comes down to trust — trust that if you give your all, they will give their all.
Where you invest your time is where you’ll find your love. When you trust whole-heartedly and you give all that you can possibly give, you’ve created a bond so much like love that a friendship could rival romance. Can your best friends be your soul mates?
I think I’ve found a couple soul mates and a spirit animal along the way. Your friends are where you’ll find the best of times and the worst of times, where you’ll find the strongest love and most powerful detest. A tale of two opposites rolled into a pact that, with enough work, will last a lifetime.
SCENE IV. Shakespeare Continued
“O, that I were some lube upon her hand? Seriously, that’s retarded. It’s worse than the first one.”
“Okay, how would you write it?”
“I wouldn’t write it, Shakespeare already did it and I’m not going to beat him.”
“Not with that attitude you’re not.”
“Why not try a Haiku or something?”
SCENE V. TV Show Pilot (poor formatting)
INT. Apartment, Los Angeles, CA
Light shines through the tattered curtains fluttering in the wind of the open sliding-glass doors of the penthouse apartment. The smell of Vodka and dog urine fill the air like a bakery. BOBBIE, a stripper past her prime, is passed out on the couch after spending all night screaming at the top her lungs about “hagalooogaiubqers!!!” CHRIS crawls his way from the living room to the master bedroom up the short hallway. Surrounded by piles of blankets, a smashed bottle of Bacardi 151 and a zip-lock full of chicken bones, MURPHY sleeps loudly.
CHRIS. (Poking at his face) Murphy. Murphy, wake up!
CHRIS. Murphy that didn’t make sense, get up you’re sleeping on a burrito.
MURPHY. And a rose…it’s romantic.
An incredulous voice calls from the closet like the noise your dad makes when he sleeps in and you try to wake him up to take you to the 2nd grade.
CHRIS. Nikki? What the hell are you doing in the closet? Have you seen Lulu?
NIKKI. She’s letting me use her as a pillow.
MURPHY. Get off of the dog Nikki, she’s not a linen.
Nikki drags herself from the beneath the mountain of clothes to the memory-foam mattress.
NIKKI. Our lives would never make a good TV show, none of the characters would have an arc because they’d never learn anything…I think I licked a guy’s butt-hole last night.
CHRIS. I don’t want you puckering anything at me right now.
NIKKI. God what happened to us? Is this where we thought we’d be when we were 12?
CHRIS. Hungover with poop on your lips? It wasn’t my first thought of the future, no.
MURPHY. We’re all good people, we’re just trying to figure it out.
CHAPTER VII. Vomit
I’m a comedian at heart even if I don’t like to show it all the time. In the last couple years I’ve become more shy and closed off. I get embarrassed when I can’t make people laugh (or can’t muster the energy to try.) But it’s what I love more than anything. If I can make someone truly laugh or really think, I’ve had a good day.
Am I saying this to reassure myself? I don’t know, maybe. Does it help? I don’t know, maybe. I think self-doubt comes with the territory. I’m constantly going up and down, but where ever I am I can alway count on my friends. I’ve made this family and I plan on keeping it.
EPISODE VIII. Planned Parenthood
The morning after “the morning after pill” didn’t work.
NIKKI. I’ve had sex with too many ugly people to be shallow.
CHRIS. I don’t think you can say that in here.
CHRIS. Because all the sad pregnant people. It’s not fair that we’re happy…I’ll be back, I have to use the bathroom. Kill the jokes.
NIKKI. I don’t think you can say that in here.
NURSE. Is there more than one Nicole?
NIKKI. (to GIRL 1) How do you spell your name?
GIRL 1. (almost too chipper) N-I-C-H-O-L-E. How do you spell yours?
NIKKI. N-I-C-O-L-E. (to GIRL 2) How about you?
GIRL 1. How do you spell your name, hun?
GIRL 2. (dejected and abrasive) N-I-K-O-L-L-E
Three’s A Company Theme Song plays.
CHRIS. Oh good, you’re still waiting.
The mood changes and the reality of the situation hits us. We sit in a comfortable silence watching “Botched” on the E! network, a show about plastic surgeries gone wrong until NIKKI is called in.
CONCLUSION IX. Proper Blog
I always feel pressured to write a great conclusion, but I hardly ever make it to the conclusion of other people’s articles so I’ll make this short.
I read somewhere once in a survey of people of later age that said most people look back at their twenties as the midpoint of their lives. If my life were a two act play, I’m fast approaching the end of Act 1 and I’m nervous to find out what intermission has in store for me.
I’m enjoying every moment for what it’s worth. If I have my friends to share it with and I couldn’t ask for anything more.
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