i am more interested in making others believe i am happy than in trying to be happy myself.
we’re all a little fucked up
but you don’t have to try to make it a contest or anything.
what if i died?
who would remember me?
who would come to my funeral?
i got dressed today wondering if i would die in this outfit.
i took a deep breath wondering if that was my last one.
i felt my pulse and imagined its last beat.
what if they forget you?
what if you’re just an old story to tell?
i won’t forget you.
i can’t forget your kindness.
i woke up. ten AM.
my body felt hollow.
i shouldn’t be up now.
mike and jesse aren’t gonna get up now.
i lay there feeling sorry for myself, then throw the covers off.
coffee will make me feel better.
makeup will make me feel better.
no. fuck it.
sweatpants and hollow eyes is all i have to offer the world today.
i keep looking at my cell phone.
to the world, it looks like i’m checking for messages.
but i’m watching the time.
feeling a sense of guilt and despair when 11:00 looks back at me.
my eyes are hot with tears.
the mall is loud.
full of people.
all in the process of dying.
their heat and life steals my warmth and i feel cold and hollow.
i stand away from them.
pitiful eyes. curious eyes. inploring eyes.
all over me.
my skin crawls.
only the soft roar of my engine brings comfort.
i drop her off, so grateful for her understanding.
i drive home, letting the tears fall freely now.
i don’t have to hold back anymore.
its over. i missed it.
sorrow consumes me.
i have nothing left.
senior night = night where SENIORS get to play.
you just shit on fifty years of tradition.
thanks for telling me through your actions how the past four years of my life have been a waste
what are you teaching these girls?
not a damn thing.
we lost anyways. by a lot.
i don’t see why you couldn’t have put some girls out there who won’t have an opportunity to do it again.
i’m sorry my daddy hasn’t dumped thousands of dollars into teaching me this sport
but i work hard.
what do i have to do to be important to you?
i miss you and your ridiculous freckles
i miss you and your goofy red hair
i miss you and your stupid cowboy hat
i miss you and your stupid cowboy boots
i miss you and your stupid riding spurs
i wish you weren’t a cowboy last weekend
i wish you had just stayed home and watched TV
i am so sorry anyone ever hurt you
i am so sorry i left
your mom can’t stop crying.
she misses you, mikey.
we all do…
i wish you weren’t a cowboy.
i miss your stupid red hair.
rest in peace MH
remember that time that steer got a hold of you
and broke three of your ribs?
your mom cried for days,
but she said she always knew you would be a cowboy
there was never any way to keep you away from ropes and steers
yup, we said we always knew you’d be a cowboy
‘til the day you died.
i can’t help but wish it hadn’t been so soon.
i don’t know what i’d give to spend time together this summer, like you said
i wish i told you in elementary school when i liked you so much i thought i would die
i wish i had held onto you longer,
i wish i had told you how much i appreciated you.
i just wish you knew how bad it hurts to be here without you
you were like my brother
i’ve never had anyone care so deeply for such a nobody like i was
rest in peace, my jess.
i miss you already, JA
i guess you’re right;
i’m afraid to put my guard down.
i’m afraid that if you know who i am, you won’t feel the same.
and i’m afraid that once my barrier is defeated and i’m comfortable,
that you’ll walk away.
because that’s what everyone’s done anyway.
i watched the garage door finish closing and i was submerged in pitch blackness
i closed the door and turned around breathing a deep sigh of relief,
my ribs ached from repeated kicks earlier that morning.
i turned on a movie for my young sisters and walked back to my mother’s bedroom
with unwavering confidence, i walked into the closet and pushed away her clothes
revealing a small safe.
i pushed the code with shaking fingers 1-1-4-7
the light flashed green and i twisted the handle.
in a leather holster on the floor of the safe laid a seemingly innocent handgun
i picked it up, fingering the hard leather and smooth gun with wonder and awe
i shut the safe, clutching the gun to my chest and walked back to my bedroom
the soft mumbling of cartoons echoed down the hallway
i shut my door with a soft click,
and examined the many cracks and dents in it with my eyes
never again, i promised myself.
i sat on my small twin bed, stripped of its sheets
it smelled like fear and hate and sweat in this room
this room that i was dying to get out of
all of my things were put away meticulously,
all of my tattered clothing, and well-worn shoes organized in my tiny closet
my greatest possessions were tucked away under my bed
i sighed softly, listening to my sisters giggle down the hallway.
my eyes began to water and tears streamed down my cheeks freely
no more. never again.
i unlatched the holster and made sure it was loaded
i switched the gun off safety
with a deep breath i lifted the gun, as though with strenuous effort
i shivered at the cold metal pressed against my temple.
i had practiced this in my mind, over and over again
i could do it. i could. i had to if i wanted to get away. do it!
i wrapped my finger around the trigger.
one. two. th-
the door creaked open.
“tay-tay, i-” megan inquired. her small brown eyes were wide and fearful. she screamed and rushed towards me, burrying her face in my neck and wrapping her tiny arms around me.
“no! no! don’t! don’t!” she wailed, gripping me with her tiny knuckles turning white.
i began to sob with her and my hand slowly lowered to the ground.
i enveloped her in my embrace, softly cooing all the while.
“daddy loves you. he just doesn’t know how to love you. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she begged. “please don’t leave me. please…”
i held her and rocked, all the while shaking.
i couldn’t hold on anymore for me, but for her i would have to.
for both of them.
i heard the garage door begin to open.
i gripped her face with my hands and looked in her bloodshot eyes “,don’t say anything.” she nodded and wiped her face with the back of her little hands.
i scooped up the gun and the holster and darted back to the safe.
locking them away just as i had found them.
fighting every urge i had to go back and fire all six rounds straight in his face…
i relived a memory last night.
not in the murky confines of my brain,
but in the clarity of my subconscious as i slept
i was in trouble, i knew it from the pang of fear in my gut
i felt strong hands grab me by the ponytail and i let out a scream of fear and pain
i was being dragged across the cold tile,
through the dank garage,
and out to the driveway
he released my hair to dig something out of his pocket
my legs were sore from impending abrasions and my scalp throbbed and ached.
i hunched over and hugged my knees, crying quietly.
a belt? a whip? a switch? his fists?
what was my punishment this time?
“get in the truck, slut.” he spat at me, cruelly.
he slapped me as i clambered into the passengers seat.
i cowered under his glare but sat obediently in the truck, all the while quaking.
he spit tabacco on the cement and then climbed in next to me and shut the door.
he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the house
we drove only a few miles before he parked on the side of a dirt road.
he turned the car off and looked at me with malice.
i turned towards the window, praying for a miracle.
i heard a ziiipp.
“come here, you fat bitch.”
i shook my head defiantly and pressed my body against the window.
again he grabbed my hair and pulled me to him.
“put it in your mouth.” he commanded.
i shook my head.
he bludgeoned me in the head and pressed my face into his groin.
i began to cry but followed his orders.
he pushed my head up and down repeatedly
calling me horrid names and watching me sob.
it felt like it was an eternity.
when he was finally content, he pushed me to the other side of the car
i hugged my knees to my chest and continued to cry quietly
he drove us home and i quickly hopped out and ran inside.
no matter how many times i brushed my teeth,
i couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth.
no matter how long i let the water run over me in the shower,
i couldn’t get the scent off.
i couldn’t forget the feeling of him touching me.
i couldn’t forgive myself for giving in.
and so i woke up alone this morning, with tears on my pillow
crying quietly to myself with no one to hear me
like the pathetic little girl i once was
not the strong brave woman i have always strived to become.
why does every church have the same service every Easter??
mix it up, bitches.