Setting: My Hometown, The School Ground, The 3rd Space, The Front Seat Of The Car, The Church, 2014-17 and beyond
Main Cast: The Musician, The Punk, The Tie-Wearer
Other Important Roles: The Prince, The Parental Units, The Body Guard, The Boy With The Glasses, The 5 Personalities, The Logical Thinker, The Multiple Third Parties, etc. There are too many to count.

Edit: Do not cast the 5 personalities... I mean, you can, just be careful. They might quit their jobs halfway through the film.

Warning**

Deciding to make this movie is a challenge that nobody is prepared to execute, so don't be surprised if you cannot handle the emotional scarring and strain on every single character in the film. This is not your average story.

And these are not your average characters.

So we start our story off in 2014.
Autumn
2 of our main characters meet...
And our story begins...

From "Unsolicited Advice To Adolescent Girls With Crooked Teeth And Pink Hair" By Jeanann Verlee*

"When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you're a boy, explain that you keep your hair short so she won't have anything to grab when you head-**** her...


Then, head-**** her."

I have never felt so sick in my life.

Eating feels like a necessary torture, and sleep feels like an unwanted evil.
Stuck in the same cycle of waking up feeling disgusting, and not wanting to sleep because the longer I stay awake, the better I feel.

But even I can't stay awake forever.

But I try, God knows I try.

So I still live in these infected clothes in this infected house and I can't help but wonder where the hell my conscience went.

I feel weak every single day, and I can only hope that this week...

Can change everything.

So if I'm crying out to the TV watchers and the music citizens. To my best friends... some of which who won't even talk to me...

Help me.

I can't wake up tomorrow thinking that this will not pass us by like the sickness it is.

Or was...

But if somebody else is crying out, I will drop this sickness like a ton of bricks and run to wherever they are.

I won't feel sick if somebody needs me there.

So I can put a lock on the medicine cabinet. Not because I won't be able to pry myself away from it, but because I will believe with the entirety of my whole body that I don't need anything.

My family is made up of some of the strongest people on this planet.

I will not be an exception by any means.

So maybe I can wake up as a medical zombie, filled with my own drop dead weight.

I am tired.

But not tired enough.

Unlike the first wave of sick.
This one cannot be cured by any amount of overdue sleep.

Why do you think I write into the abyss of every night?

Because there is nothing more for me to gain from saying that I am helpless.

So I won't...

Wake me up when it's all over.

And then I can live again.

I woke up sick.
And I feel awful.

But not for the reason you think.

I can assure you that I am fine, I just need some time to lucid dream and wish my worries away. But that might never happen. And honestly, that's okay with me.

I'm wearing the same infected clothes, and wrapping up in the same infected blanket hoping to get better.

I've gotten the rest of my family sick, so good for me.
Because my family is made up of some of the strongest people I know. We never get sick.

And yet, here we are. Bound to our beds and eating soup like it's the elixir of life.

But we will get better. Physically...

As for everything else... we can leave that until tomorrow.

But I'm still in these infected, sick clothes. But I'm too tired to do anything about it. So I'll sleep.

It's the best thing I can do right now.

Don't you think?

Me?

That can't possibly be right.
I never planned on being this kind of crazy, but I don't hate it. This is not what we expected and yet somehow we're okay with it.

I'm being very vague, I know. But only some of us are going to know what happened. So I don't need to shout it to the rest of the world. The rest of the world doesn't really need to know what happened to us.

I'm not afraid to die some days.

Mainly because when I do get on with living, I get caught up in being so busy that I don't have time for death.

Or maybe that death will be gracious enough not to have time for me.

I wish I knew how to pick up the pieces of my life and try to put them together without losing anything on the way.

You know that I don't belong to anyone. And that no one belongs to me, I am not one to claim anything for myself.

I think that you are awesome. And you can decide to throw that to the back pages of your life story and I won't be mad at you. I'll just decide to keep writing and maybe the book won't seem so heavy on your heart.

But even as I say all of these great things about you. I cannot tell you that I am sure of what will happen to us. You can't have me.

And I will not be able to explain why. But I will say that I feel comfortable where we are now. Held in hugs and folded away with stray sheets of paper. I don't want to lose you, but I cannot say with confidence that I can be what you want.

Because as much as I care about you. We must understand that we are single people looking for connections in the network of our closest friends and family. And we don't always find what we're looking for.

And that is okay.

So when we decide to stop.
I will still call you gorgeous.
I will still walk with you down hallways.
I will still lean on you in the worst of times
I will still call on your name.
I will still call you awesome.
I will still call you amazing.
I will still call you beautiful.

I will still call you...

And I hope you will still call me.