Mind Boggling

You my dear, have a serious case of convenient recollection. Because you see, I'm not the bad guy. No. It was not just me. I'm not denying I've been a jerk. No, because that would be my own convenient recollection. No I didn't slam you. But I did push you off of me. No, I didn't pull you off the top bunk. But I did pull on that rope. No I didn't throw your clothes on the floor. But I did set them on the bench. Look, I haven't made the best choices, haven't always acted how I should. Yes, I am partly to blame. But so are you. You ignore all the junk you did to me and go on and on about how awful I was. It bugs me to no end. Why can't you see the past clearly?

Or...am I the one who has convenient recollection?

An excerpt from...yeah, i don't even know

She felt a chill race down her spine; but, she placed her palm against the door frame none the less. She pushed. A musty odor rushed into her nostrils and she closed her eyes. It was dank. Dark and dank. She bit her lip and slipped inside the cold room, every ounce of common sense in her body screaming at her to turn and run. She ignored the pleas and closed the door. She squinted through the darkness. Nothing. She could see nothing. She slowly lifted her hand, just inches from her eyes. She let out a humorless laugh as she realized she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face.

Something funny?

And suddenly she froze. Her hairs stood on end, and her heart began to pound against her rib cage as if trying to break free. The floor boards began to creak. The noise drew nearer and when it stopped, she felt hot breath on her face. Her hand pressed against the door, fumbling for the knob. Maybe she could leave. She had to leave. This was a mistake. But a rough hand grabbed her wrist just as her palm felt the cold brass knob.

Trying to leave? You only just came in.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It didn’t budge. While one hand still held her wrist, the other reached up and touched her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut.

You’re scared.

That wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer. She opened her eyes and still could see nothing. Suddenly, she was being pulled. Pulled from the door, her only escape. Pulled deeper into the darkness. 

Forever Young

Stay little.

Please don’t grow up.

Don’t lose your innocence.

Don’t learn of pain.

Don’t feel heartbreak.

Don’t lose yourself.

Don’t meet fear.

Don’t know hurt.

You’re much too sweet.

You’re much to young.

Stay that way.

Don’t grow up.

Stay little.

Please,

Don’t forget me.

When we grow up and leave.

Don’t forget me.

It won’t be long now.

Don’t forget me.

Time will fly away.

Don’t forget me.

When we begin our new lives

Don’t forget me.

Though we’re far apart.

Don’t forget me.

We’ll go down different paths.

Don’t forget me.

Let them entwine.

Don’t forget me.

I could never bear it.

Please.

Don’t forget me.

The Corners of Her Mind

It’s quiet in there

Where the dark extinguishes the light

And the night shatters the day.

It’s so quiet in there.

It’s cold in there

Where terror destroys the fearless

And fear tramples the brave.

It’s so cold in there.

It’s sad in there.

Where lust murdered love

Where evil trumped good.

It’s so, so sad in there.

The corners of her mind.

All You Are Is Mean

I’m sorry I don’t measure up. I’m sorry I’m not perfect. I’m sorry I don’t want to go to all the schools you want me to. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m…NOT sorry. Guess what? I am who I am. And I don’t care what you think. I don’t want to be the person you want me to be. Yeah, I want to do music. That’s what I’m good at. Great at. That is my God-given talent. I don’t want to do anything. I really don’t give a rip whether or not you think that’s acceptable. You’re opinion is irrelevant. So please, keep it to yourself. Do not…do NOT even think about showing off how amazing they are. Honestly, I don’t care. I care if they tell me, because they aren’t acting like jerks. They aren’t putting me down. They’re just proud of their accomplishments. You? You are awful. You are mean and pathetic. All you do is tell me how wonderful and perfect they are and how I don’t measure up. And the second I give even the slightest hint that what you’re telling me really doesn’t matter to me, and it can’t hurt me, you explode. You are a jerk. You are a fool. You are awful and I’m sick of you. I’m sick of you being in my life. I’m sick of putting up with you. I’m so done. All you do is judge me. All you do is bring me down. I’m done with it. Don’t expect me to be cordial. Don’t anticipate any respect. Because you don’t deserve it. Not at all.  

Imperfect

I don’t belong here. In this world, your world. I don’t fit your mold. Frankly, I don’t want to. I don’t want to fit in with the plastered on smiles or the façade of perfection. I don’t want to be part of that Barbie doll picture. And I know you don’t want me to be. You don’t like me. Don’t pretend you do. Your fake happiness when you see me is sickening. I can barely stand to hug you. But I have to. Why? After all, you don’t even want me, so why should I be cordial? Why should I pretend to be ignorant to your disdain? Why am I here? I don’t want to be. I’m not comfortable here with your small talk. As if you actually care about my life. I want to be where I’m loved. Where I’m wanted. With my friends. I want to go home. 

I've been thinking recently...

and I realize, that I feel very inadequate. No, no. Don't worry. I don't think I'm a waste of space or hate my life or anything. I just feel that I'm not being the best I can be in a certain area: friendship. I'm not deep. I'm not deep at all, I've come to realize. I focus on dumb things. Things that will never affect the course of my life. But all I do is whine about them. And I never listen. I always thought that the reason why my close friends never talked about deeper stuff to me is because they didn't want to open up. That always hurt me and I took it very, very, very personally because I always open up everything. Now, I realize it has nothing to do with them. It's my fault. I never shut up. And all I talk about is myself. I'm so mad at me right now it makes me sick and I don't even know how she puts up with me. Which reminds me of what a good friend she is and what an awful, horrible, worthless friend I am. But I don't really know how to fix it, because I'm not a huge fan of the whole, "Oh hey, look, i've been awful and I never listen. But I'll listen now. So spill." I find that awkward. I don't know what to do. But I'm sure if I don't change, I'll lose something very very dear to me.

Mr. Oblivious

Seriously. Seriously? I'm I that hard to read? I thought it was apparent when I acted liked a stupid, love struck middle school girl. I thought it was plain to see that I cared. Is it really that hard to imagine that I might actually like some one like you? Did you think it not even a possibility? Were you under the impression that you were only a last resort, if that? No, that isn't true at all. It's you and it's been you for quite a while. But you never saw. You never noticed and now it doesn't even matter, does it? Fine. I can't do anything about it, and I'm really not going to try. It won't get me anywhere and I'm really bad at stuff like that anyway. I just wish you weren't so oblivious. I wish you could have seen before. It may have made a difference. Or maybe it wouldn't have. But what if it had? What if, for the very first time in my entire life, I got what I wanted. I got who I wanted. But most of all, I wish I would have said something. Maybe just blurted it out at an inopportune time. Whatever would have made you stop and look at me. And see me differently. But who knows? Maybe you're too oblivious to respond to even that.

It's Interesting

There are some that I haven't talked to since last year. People who knew a lot. People who I confided in, whined to, whatever you would like to call it. But in the past week or so, I've seen them again. We've spoken in passing; but, I've noticed something. They treat me the same. They act like I'm the same fragile, pathetic little girl running around with tears perpetually streaming from her eyes. Can't they see me? Don't they realize I'm not like that anymore? Can't they tell that there's almost always a smile on my face? Don't they realize that I don't need my hand to be held anymore? I've forgiven the one who hurt me so badly. Who scarred me for what I thought would be life. But forgiveness led to the healing that I needed. And I'm fine now. I'm great. But they don't believe it. They think that this is only a short phase that I will let go of and fall back into sadness. Back into the darkness. But it's been a year. Almost exactly. And I'm so different. I can sleep through the night now. I don't cry at every tiny upsetting thing. I don't need him. I've forgiven him. I'm fine. I'm great. I'm wonderful.

So why can't they see?