Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Dear Mr. Vernon...

"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all."

Thirty-one years since those eight hours and fifty-four minutes of detention within the concrete walls of Shermer High School. Thirty-one years since the Glorious Ruckus of The Breakfast Club.

Things I know now that I didn't back then, looking down the barrel of the last thirty-one years:

When you grow up, your heart doesn't die. Quite the opposite, in fact. Although there'll be plenty of days when you wish otherwise.

In so many ways, on every precarious level of the scaffolding on which we construct our lives, screws do fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place.

I still don't know what the naked lady with a poodle under her arm says to the bartender. Because...the world is an imperfect place.

Being bad does feel pretty good.

I used to wear a fingerless leather glove, just like John Bender. I didn't buy it. I found it on the platform at Bayswater station on a boozy teenage Friday night and kept it. Until an ex-girlfriend threw it away years later. I feel more like Bender now than I did then. I've got a real problem with authority figures…

Unlike Bender, I've never worn an earring.

Does that answer your question?
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.

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