And lo it was written that she who angsteth the hardest got the best grade.

Amazing. Absofuckinglutely amazing.

Yesterday, I was the second to last person to read their monologue in my class. That day, my drama teacher had heard 120 monologues from his classes. After I was finished, he declared that mine was the best.

Sweet Christ on a crumpet, how the hell did that happen? It was less of a monologue and more of a hate-filled tirade against my mother, and yet, it was the best. Maybe it helped that I almost had a panic attack while up on stage, giving the appearance that I was about to burst into tears. Perhaps it was because I was one of the only people in my class to read with any concievable emotion in my voice.

Maybe everyone else in the drama program just really suck at monologues. The world may never know.

I think I'll post my rant later, after I get back from my grandmother's house. Not that anyone actually reads this journal.