Holding Up the Universe

by Jennifer Niven

prosopagnosia,

time of night when my mind starts running around all wild and out of control, like my cat, George, when he was a kitten. All of a sudden, there goes my brain, climbing the curtains. There it is, swinging from the bookshelf. There it is, with its paw in the fish tank and its head underwater.

Wow its ronald

“If I want to carry a purse, I’m going to

*snap snap snap* u go gorl

The animal kingdom has crazy names for animal groups. A zeal of zebras. A murder of crows. An unkindness of ravens. And, my favorite, an embarrassment of pandas. What would this group be called? A horror of students? A nightmare of teens? Just for fun, I scan the faces going by, looking for my brother. But it’s like trying to choose your favorite polar bear out of an aurora of them.

Ha!

I have a fucked-up brain.…

Haha

“Why are people so shitty?” At first I think he knows about my conversation with Dad, or about me, about the person I am at school, but then my eyes go to the purse, where one of the ugliest words in the English language is scrawled across one side of it in black marker. The strap has been sliced in two. My eyes go back to my little brother. “People are shitty for a lot of reasons. Sometimes they’re just shitty people. Sometimes people have been shitty to them and, even though they don’t realize it, they take that shitty upbringing and go out into the world and treat others the same way. Sometimes they’re shitty because they’re afraid. Sometimes they choose to be shitty to others before others can be shitty to them. So it’s like self-defensive shittiness.” Which I know plenty about. “Who’s being shitty to you?” Dusty holds up his hand and shakes his head, which tells me no, we won’t speak of details. “Why would being afraid make someone act shitty?” “Because maybe someone doesn’t like who he is, but then here’s this other kid who knows exactly who he is and seems pretty damn fearless.” I glance at the purse. “Well, that can be intimidating and even though it shouldn’t, it can make that first kid feel even worse about himself.” “Even if the other kid isn’t trying to make anyone feel worse, he’s just being himself?” “Exactly.” “That’s shitty.” “Is there anything I can do?” “You just don’t be shitty.” “I can’t promise anything except that I’ll never be shitty to you, little b...

Poor kid

“Better to be the hunter than the hunted. Even if you’re hunting yourself.”

“Good.”

Ha

She leans down to rub George under his chin, and surprisingly he lets her. Traitor, I think.

Haha

This is exactly why I don’t do social media. So many mean comments and snarky comments and bullying disguised as I’m only expressing my opinion, as the Constitution of our great country requires me to do. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Blah blah blah.

I agree with this

Is this what she felt the day she drove herself to the hospital? Is this how it began for her?

What happened to libbys mom?

I want to go Look at him. He’s perfect. He’s never had a bad day. Okay, he has this strange disorder that keeps him from recognizing people, but no one’s ever called him fat or ugly or disgusting. No one’s sent him hate mail or told him he would have been better off killing himself. His parents never received hate mail just for having him. Also, he has parents. I doubt he knows what it’s like to lose someone he loves. People like us, we can’t touch him because he’s too good for you and me and the rest of these kids and this punishment. Not to mention his friends utterly suck. I want to say Why wouldn’t I punch him?

Damn straight

Crime shows aren’t so much. I’m always wondering, Where’s the bad guy? And Who the hell is that?”

HAahahha

“Identifiers. That’s what I call it. Everyone has at least one thing that stands out.” “Is that why your hair’s so big?” “My hair’s big because it’s so damn awesome, baby.”

Haha

I realize he’s talking and so I come zinging back to attention. He’s saying, “I want you, Libby Strout. I’ve always wanted you. It’s the reason I grabbed you.” Or maybe he’s actually saying, “You can’t tell, but I’m smiling on the inside.” I say, “I’m smiling back.” I try to keep my face a blank, even though I don’t have a split lip. But I can’t help it. For some reason, I smile so everyone can see.

Jack wipes his hands on his jeans. Ack.

Ha

booty,

*vomit emoji*

What the hell?

Haha

Stop thinking about making out with Libby Strout.

HAahaa

“People can be great, but they can also be lousy. I am often lousy. But not completely lousy. You, Libby Strout, are great.”

Slay

He photographs the face. He maps the face by making a photographic grid of it. He then builds the face piece by piece on canvas, using oils, acrylics, ink, graphite, or colored pencils. According to him, it’s always about the face. Only about the face. Because the face is a road map of life.

I felt like highlighting this

“Jack?” “What you’ve just heard is the sound of my heart dying a swift and sudden death.” “Hypothetically speaking, if—and I’m not saying I do—but if I was to like you, what would you want to do about it?” “I would probably want to hold your hand.” “Probably?” “Hypothetically, yes. I would definitely hypothetically want to hold your hand.” “Well then, I would probably hypothetically hold yours back.” “I would also hypothetically want to take you to a movie, even though I don’t like movies as a rule because of the whole facial confusion situation.” “Which one?” “Which movie?” “I need to know if it’s something I want to see.” “Won’t it be enough just to be with me, holding hypothetical hands in the dark?” “I’d at least like to know what kind of movie we’d be seeing.” “Uh. I think it would need to be a movie with some of everything. Comedy. Drama. Action. Mystery. Romance.” “That sounds like a really good movie.” “So would you hold my hand during it?” “Probably.” “Okay. I’ll take ‘probably’ for now. I’d also want to take you out to dinner, either before or after the movie, depending, and I would absolutely want to walk you to your door.” “What if I wanted to dance to my door instead?” “Then I’m your man.” Are you? Is this what this means? My heart goes hopscotching out of the room and down the hall and out the door and into the street. “But after I danced you to the door, I’d want to kiss you.” “You would?” “I would.” And now my heart is nowhere on earth to be found. I can se...

*exhales through nose*

Behind me I hear, “Oh my God, you’re trying out?” Caroline Lushamp looks down at me with this weird pretend smile that makes her look like some sort of beauty queen serial killer. I say, “Oh my God, how did you know?” She blinks at me, blinks at my name on the sheet, blinks at Jayvee, blinks at me. I say, “Just imagine it—we could be teammates.” And then I squeeze her into the tightest hug. “See you at auditions!”

HAaaahahahahah

effing

Fucking

“Libby Strout, you deserve to be seen.” “People can’t help but see me.” She says this to the tablecloth. “That’s not what I mean.”

“This will just free me up to pursue other things.” Like dancing by myself in my room and creating voodoo dolls with Caroline Lushamp’s face.

HAa

even though I don’t want to make out with him, Mick from Copenhagen is so cute I can’t help thinking, Girl, you ARE wanted. And it feels pretty damn good.

<3

“It’s not moving on, Libbs. It’s moving differently. That’s all it is. Different life. Different world. Different rules. We don’t ever leave that old world behind. We just create a new one.”

Do I feel I should be punished? Yes. Why else would I have given myself bangs?

HAaha