Thank You, World.

I don't know if I've mentioned, but I love being alive? It's... mmm. It's delicious, and delightful, and pretty much I just want to wrap the whole world in a big hug and yell THANK YOU! (No. Really. Drug free for 16 years and counting. Why do you ask?...)

So lisssTEN. I'd like to now take the time to personally thank a few parts of my life.

Thank you, dear first period teacher for giving us a nonverbal communication day. Thank you twice, for walking by Riley and I as we communicated, non verbally, and promptly letting one RIIIIP. Probably the loudest, most blatant fart I've ever heard in my life. Thank you for raising an eyebrow, pursing your lips, and wiggling your shoulders like you were ALMOST PROUD OF IT. What in the freaking woooorld?..... Thank you for saving it for nonverbal communication day, so you could promptly dock Riley and I a good ten points for laughing because the sound of laughter comes from a voice box and apparently that counts as a form of verbal communication even though it can often times be an involuntary reaction. THANK YOU, so much. You are Satan in a jumper. Perhaps someone should have docked you points for farting. It is rather verbal. I feel like I almost heard a swear word in it, so... You were definitely communicating with that monstrosity. TEN POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN, Umbridge.

Thank you, sophomore boys for making up code words for everything gross because you think I won't be able to understand you. I still can... But admittedly it does make it a lot funnier to try not to listen to you. Bless your immaturity. It mirrors my own.

Thank you, Riley, for driving me to Little Ceasers for a pizza, because you smelled the pizza from the Food Lab and got the very same mad craving. Thank you for contacting me immediately after because you knew I'd feel the same. Thank you, boy working at Little Ceasers for checking me out openly and awkwardly as I walked in... In sweats and no makeup. Thank you for then fleeing appropriately. You are clearly deprived in the deepest sense of the word, Little Ceaser Louie. (I like to name people. It's a thing I have.) But the biggest thank you here goes to the woman who poked her head out of the side door, with her absurdly long strawberry-gross ponytail hanging like a dead flag from her head, and released a frightening noise that made me feel like I was in a real life version of the troll-under-the-bridge fairytale... Shudder.