A short story
by Laura Cripe
hope you like it :)



Just like mr. Poe


Iâ??ve never written in a journal before and honestly Iâ??m still not sure how I feel about it . I mean the whole concept seems so novel to me, I just donâ??t understand why someone would want to talk to a piece of paper. I mean no offence of course, for all I know a piece of paper could be fascinated by some random persons life story. It just seems a little far fetched to me. Even now I feel almost selfish writing my thoughts down like this. But maybe selfish isnâ??t the right word, greedy perhaps? I mean, whose really going to care what I think or what happened to me on, I donâ??t know, lets say January 5, 1998. Who really gives a damn about my life anyways? The world is so caught up in trying to find all the answers to every single insignificant question that no one seems to have time to just listen to each other anymore.
But I guess thatâ??s why everyone keeps a journal now isnâ??t it? I suppose thatâ??s why Iâ??m resorting to talking to paper. Funny how the world works like that. But it feels weird just talking to the air like this. I think Iâ??ll give you a name. Besides if Iâ??m going to make you sit though the story of my life then I should at least call you something other than plain old journal, much to cliché. It cant be anything to fancy though, just a good sturdy name. your name has to be strong, something I feel I can depend on. Something like Ted, or Teddy. Or I know, Iâ??ll call you Luke. thatâ??s a name I know I can always depend on. So now instead of righting â??dear journalâ?? at the top of every entry I can write â??dear Lukeâ??. That sounds way more personal doesnâ??t it? Maybe Iâ??ll have an easier time opening up now.
Its funny, but even on paper Iâ??ve always had a hard time opening up. I love talking donâ??t get me wrong, I just donâ??t like talking about my personal life is all. And in case you hadnâ??t noticed yet what Iâ??m really doing right now is putting off telling you anything about me by rambling like the insane person I really am. I really am crazy, honest. Of course you would never have guessed by looking at me exactly what a crazy girl I am, but its true. I truly am insane. Really the only person that keeps me from going off the deep end is your name sake, Luke Danforth. Youâ??d like him, heâ??s almost as crazy as I am but I love him anyways. Heâ??s a really good guy, sure heâ??s made a lot of bad choices but heâ??s one of the best friends you could ever hope to have. If you get on his bad side he can be an ass though, but honestly who isnâ??t an ass from time to time.
Now that I think about it, nothing special really happened today that I can tell you about, nothing that I think you want to hear anyways. It was just another day I had to put on a face. I call it my â??smileâ??. and when I put on my â??smileâ?? no one can ever tell what Iâ??m feeling which is how I like it. Its better that way. I swear if people knew the thoughts that went through my head they would run screaming with there hands in the air all the way to Chico.
I was thinking about some things today though, even if I didnâ??t actually do anything. I was thinking about something my mom had told me. I remember last Sunday we were driving in the car on our way out to breakfast and she turns to me and you know what she said? She said that I donâ??t have to worry about being crazy, and neither does she. Of course I tried to tune her out when she said this, she is always trying to make up all these little theories about why her illness is really a good thing. I donâ??t know why this bugs me so much. I guess I just cant rap my mind around the idea that something that has affected me in such a horrible way could ever be a good thing. In a twisted way I almost feel insulted every time she tries make it seem not so bad. Its almost like sheâ??s undermining my experiences and my memories when she does that. But of course I canâ??t completely shut off my ears, Iâ??ve yet to master that skill, so in the end I had to hear her out.
Despite my reluctance what she said really stuck with me. Iâ??m almost obsessed with the idea know that she has if firmly planted in my mind. She asked me where the world would be if no one was manic. She asked me what would change if no one was ever depressed. Just think, what would happen if no one was willing to visit the darker places of the mind? Of course I had no answer. I was just sitting there trying my hardest not to hear a word she said. Soon enough she had y attention though because then she said that with out all the crazy people in the world there would be no poetry. This thought gave me pause. We both write a lot of poetry and both of us are pretty good to. Then She went on and told me that Edger Allen Poe had been bipolar, and that van gouge had been clinically depressed , the list when on.
Honestly Iâ??m not really sure what my point is my dear Luke. I havenâ??t drawn any conclusions yet. What I do know is that the world would be a sad, cold place with out poetry.
What my mom said just made me wonder I guess, it was just a little food for thought. Myself being one of the many crazy people in the world, the fact that it might actually give me some upper hand in some areas fascinates me. Maybe my willingness to visit the darkness is why I write such damn good poetry. And thatâ??s what I did today Luke. I sat down and thought about poetry. I have no idea if youâ??ll care, and really I donâ??t expect you to be at all interested in what I think. But Iâ??m not even sure if that matters much because today I figured something else out. I have to start doing things for me again. And I want to write. So this is my story, you can either listen or turn a blind eye, thatâ??s entirely up to you. But this is what I choose, and I choose to not be silent.