Don't think I don't see the looks that I get
As I walk down the halls of our school
Ever since that report came out
"Missing Ottawa teen"
People have been staring and they think they're discreet
But I notice every single glance
And every single point
And my doctor says its the paranoia
But I know what I'm fucking seeing
I see you whisper as I walk by
I see you ask your friends what happened
I saw your posts on Facebook
"Please help she's my best friend"
Bitch you don't even know me
You didn't notice that I hadn't been to school in months
You didn't notice my sudden disappearance from your life
I got zero texts zero messages zero calls asking if I was okay
That is until the day I ran away
I logged onto Facebook 55 notifications
"Help she goes to my school"
Bitch no I don't anymore thanks for noticing
Its really true what everyone always said
Nobody cares unless they all think you're dead
Most breeze through the Boardwalk Big Dipper Bling
Ocean Street Sleeze, and a walk on Cowell Beach and say
I've seen it all, that's Santa Cruz, as they cruise off on highway 1
or crash into the barriers or 17 but that's not all, at all
I love Santa Cruz on a bright sunny day in May as I
gorge on the Indian vegetarian buffet, available all day, by the way
And check out the O'Niel sidewalk sale, and then past the sweaty crowds in front
of the Cineplex and the sign in the window display at Camouflage that reminds:
May is National Masturbation Month, are you doing your part?
and at Pergolesi a homemade sign says "friends don't let friends drink Starbucks"
and there are two art house cinemas within 200 yards of each other
and there are lesbians holding hands and homeless people breathing the fresh air
with their shelter pets and I feel free
like anything can happen here, even me
(I think I've lost the ability to start things, so please forgive this poem for not having an attention grabbing genesis)
I've been twiddling my thumbs for almost eight months now
Putting off all that I care about
(And especially everything that I don't. Here's lookin' at you, AP World History)
Sitting around amassing a booklet of words to use in the future for novels and whatnot
But only using them in essays so I seem smarter than I am
(For example, susurrus means 'a whispering or rustling sound; a murmur')
Hoarding anything affiliated with Ben Folds because he makes me feel things on occasion
(I currently have 189 songs of his on my iTunes library; No one understands me.)
Making dick jokes at lunch while masking the thoughts of substance ricocheting around in my head
(Also your mom jokes because no one would think that you're crying internally about the uncertainty of the afterlife whilst making lewd stabs at their mother's integrity(and vagina. Ba dum tss.))
Apparently craving the lingering feel of another's touch
(I had a dream a few weeks back that Ben Folds licked my hand; My stomach folded (hahahah, folded) in on itself.)
Thinking that my feelings of misanthropy and apathy and everything else I can't find the words for yet are mine alone because everyone else is too stupid to have thought them themselves
(Even though I know that I'm not particularly special and I should stop being so elitist and stupid)
But I've finally found a light at the end of the table in the last place I'd expect--
(I meant to say tunnel, but hey, the source of said light does sit at my lunch table.)
A cherubic Presbyterian boy with an aversion to all things perverse,
(Which includes my sailor's tongue and occasional tendencies to want to put it on a member of my own sex, thought he doesn't know about that)
A spec of cleanliness on the grimy waistcoat of humanity who makes me want to be the best I can be
(Today when I saw him, I only swore once; I was very proud of myself)
But maybe I'm just jumping the gun
Because what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me who isn't even sure she believes in God?
Maybe his prolonged contingencies were merely contingent and I'm just overreacting because of my few and far between incidences of human contact.
(Seriously. Don't touch me.)
Maybe I just want someone to talk to for hours about everything and nothing at all.
(What with me being relatively antisocial, it's hard to find people with similar mindsets.)
Maybe I just want someone to funnel my adolescent attention into
(Because teen movies have taught me that one obviously can't be happy without having a crush on someone at any given time.)
Or maybe it's just because the way the Bible quote on the back of his t-shirt conflicted so humorously with the way he shook his hips to a J-Lo song on "Just Dance."
(Seriously, though, it was hilarious. I was dying.)
Or the way our fingers brushed when we were catching frogs
Or the way he blushed when I stepped out in my bikini
(I went to a pool party today.)
Or the way he held me momentarily in the delirious confusion of the flashing strobe lights
Or the way he got one point higher on his research paper than me a month ago
(He was excited; I was upset.)
Or the way that he does everything nearly to perfection.
I could go on..
But I don't know.
Maybe I'll get over him in a week and slip back into myself.
Because, like I said, what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me?
So this month after my birthday i realised how much my friends matter to me and that i matter to them. They were always a true friend, i am thankfull to have such great and wonderfull people in my life. Always laughing through the fun and happy times together, making the best memories i have. I'm so gratefull to be able to call these people my friends. Thank you life for blessing me with these people. I will forever be thankfull i got a chance to meet and know them.
Your mother and father found out
about you and I
and then they said they loved you
The next day,
My mother and father found out
and they hid the phones
and any contact from you
Two weeks later,
I never left my room
and I never slept
until you called to tell me to
and when to wake up
They knew how much
I was hurting
p a i n
You never called and I never found the phones
or a simple hello
Some days, I'd think you were just taking your time on writing it out
But one day
and I'll drive out of this town
and you can tell your friends about this now
But for now, I won't say a thing
because that's us
and I miss you
pens are swaying
Over the papers
the rooms consumed with no sound
But my pen is sleeping
And my head is dreaming
I'm on a boat sailing
Its not my fault if I might be failing
These questions are deceving
And so what if I make money off cleaning
Then I'm stopped by the thought
Of how clear the ceiling is
Unlike How my life is crowded with mess
And How much of the teachers fault was this
counting the excuses and people to diss
See "I" had nothing to do with it
I could've had a million likes
And American Apparel
And too many OMGs, and BTWs to count
More GORGs, PERFs than money can buy
And LMAOs, and STFUs that reach beyond infinity
And two katrillion followers
All of 'em,
Even the ones I don't know.
What do I have?
No American Apparel
And never any GORGs
And 34 followers
But I have more friends than you can count
And all of my OMG PERFs come from the heart
In other forms
Like you're so smart
You are beautiful
Wanna hang out
Eyes that look like snakes
Yes, I have no ILYs or IMYs.
Instead, I have
I love yous
I miss yous.
And I am happy.
And that is what really matters.
Three seventy-five. At my current muscle weight, that’s the amount of force, in pounds, with which my fist smashes into my opponent’s face. Flesh molds against my knuckles, vessels rupture under the impact; I am that unstoppable object, that destruction you can only watch. I am that confused, hurt, angry child. I channel it through my arms, conduct it through my knuckles, watch it spark and jump from fist to cheekbone. This is the therapy I so wantonly crave, so needed. The only place I can vent the full wrath of my frustration upon the world; or…at least, a single member of it….
Jump back three days.
Why can’t I see you more? I text her. Because I don’t want a relationship. She says. I don’t need a relationship. I just want to see more of you. I tell her. I’m afraid I’ll invest too much. She says. I don’t understand. Is that a bad thing? Seven years of friendship, two of off-on dates and rendezvous. How could you get more invested? What else can you spill after your hearts in a pool at my feet?
I drank a lot that night.
Jump back four days.
I’m coming out that way. What are you doing tonight? I always initiate…everything. Always the first question, the first proposal, the first, the first, the first. Am I that threatening? Going out with friends. Homework and going out is all this woman seems to do. Maybe one less night with friends, one more with me wouldn’t hurt? Cool. Celebrating a birthday with friends, we’ll be out and about. Maybe we should meet up? If I’m here, she’s got no reason to refuse me…right? I thought distance was our only problem. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I don’t want you to see me stupid drunk. What a stupid excuse. I actually want to see you stupid drunk. I will at some point if we keep things up.
Long story short, a guy she sometimes fucks is going to be wherever it is they’re going, and she doesn’t want to have two guys she’s seeing in the same vicinity. What does that make me? I’m getting frustrated with all this confusion and sideways talking. My group incidentally ends up at the same place they are. I don’t even talk to her face-to-face. I’m such a sporting guy. She goes home...alone, to my relief. I get stupid drunk with friends. But never forget to message her back and act like everything’s cool.
Jump ahead a week.
More conversations to clear up why I fill only one void in her life lead to more confusion. I’m frothing with it. It’ll be in my mouth soon. Wait…I taste it already.
“Let’s drink and pick fights,” I say to a couple buds. Two hours out, we’re sloshed and trading licks in a back alley. The guy that had taunted and jostled me in the bar follows us out and picks a fight. Says I’m too drunk. Not worth it. I hide a smile, raise my arms, “Let’s see.”
Shirts are off. Left hook to my ribs, I pivot an elbow, deflect with forearm. This leaves his side open. I duck his wild right-hand and drive a straight hit into his open spleen. He hits the alley wall. “Still want to take a drunk?” I taunt from my knee. He comes back, still sure of himself. I’ll show you what confidence does to us, my friend. He puts up a boxer’s guard and comes back, more cautious. Friends and enemies cheer and joan around me. I don’t hear a thing. There are thoughts. Dark, confused, smashed together, waiting to be dealt with. I focus on all of it. I focus on his face. I listen to the conversations that leave me more hurt and alone than they should. I lean into a false waltz stance, he doesn’t notice the feet. I notice his. He’s more drunk, on less, than I. Every time you breathe, I hope you think of me. The mass in my mind flows through my arms and legs. I charge and he punches straight where my head should go. I dodge right, grab his wrist, snap in and pull out, stringing him in an invisible flaying bed; my left elbow crosses his solar plexus, throwing him to the ground. Knees pin his arms. The hate, and anger, and confusion, and helplessness dissolve between fist and flesh, arc across the pain in my heart and the bruises and blood flowing freely from a fool....
Never entice a man with a need to portray his problems upon a heedless world.
His friend steps in and plants a well-thought-out fist against my jaw. The one on the ground is down for the count. My friends don’t step in. They know me. I roll off him before his friend’s hit can follow through. Now I have physical pain to channel, too. I grin and my assailant isn’t comforted. This is the release I need. This is my way out. This is what will help. Fuck you, world. Fuck you girl. Damn all of you for your games and your feelings and your mysteries. To hell with why you think you need to hide your heart. Wear it on your goddamn sleeves. Fuck your dishonesty and your insincerity. Fuck your exes. May you all drowned in your lies and guilt and shame. Damn you for assuming I’d ever judge any of you, for not taking my love at face-value, for thinking I had anywhere near the ulterior motives you all harbored. My left hand grabs his left elbow, simultaneously blocking a right jab and flipping his arm out of the way for the full force of my right arm into his ribs. A cacophony of bone and flesh giving way to my wrath meets my ears. He yelps. Never yelp when you’re trying to be strong for a friend. Keep your damned lips closed, asshole. He recovers only slightly before my right meets his face. My arc is perfect: the momentum of muscle as it curves the natural twist of a muscled arm, the darkness of my life gathering on knuckle-tips like obsidian gems glinting in the dirty hallway between worlds of vice and vindication, the cording muscle releasing the pent-up rage of a thousand lives gathered in one body.
Connection shatters worlds. The horror of life bleeds across his broken window to the world. The reflection of my jeweled nirvana wink across his eyes. See the world I live in, failed rescuer. See the hopeless honor I hold in my bosom. Sleep with the knowledge that even when you try, someone will always be there to flash the dark, jaded realities across your eyes…and bring you to my level.
The other friends won’t budge ‘till I’ve stepped past. They part like the Red Sea for me. My ark is empty until I interact with the world tomorrow.
Brief peace is better than none.
So last night
I whispered all of your dreams unprompted
I saw your jaw drop but I tried to conspicuously not pay attention;
I just liberated you from from a bar of twenty men all drooling
I fend them off and kept two of you entertained with only one of me
and the dreams of my dreamy elusive brother coworker or friend
I paid a lot of attention to the needs and dreams of your cute companion
But if I'm honest
even though I was making sure she was safe
cause that's what i do
I was looking at you and dreaming
I was staring straight into your eyes
looking straight into your soul
I don't have much of almost anything
but I can look deep down and see true
most people really don't believe it
and i don't blame them, why would you?
But there was a moment there
In the garage while we were talking
when you were looking at me
like you loved me
more than anything
that had ever come or gone
and it was the briefest of moments
but i fucking swear i saw it
and it made me love you
with you dirty blond hair
and all of your compassionate let's just take care of my friend care
I mean, yes
Like i heard you
you have a boyfriend
you say it like it's means something
to someone like me
....who's only ever always confronted with adversity
I have a back burner
and all of your friends
and it's not like
im saying anything
a little bit
and surprisingly so
a lack of interest
in anything intelligent or courageous
it's like the human race took 5
and was all over it
can't ever really quite describe
what I'm looking for
what lights up the fire
what stokes the soul
behind my eyes
cause i'm a believer
and i believe most true
and i think im feeling something
maybe i love you
...I remember who talked to me all night about everything
about significant things great and small
tiny odd reccolecctions
everything her things my things your things all things fuck pretty much everything
That I answered or said without saying as things that are true
I might have lied
Because you started talking like my dreams...
I covered every base what the fuck do you want me to do?
You were so fucking cool
I think I met your friend
Only to meet you
or your boyfriend...
fuck i seriously hope that one ain't true but like I'm a buhhdist now and can't say
It's like you have never met a man who see's the future
A gingerbread man baked and burned in the oven for fun
Who got tortured for years into a smile that we all love
It's like we all take things so seriously instead of laughing and drinking
and hearing the endearing lunacy of our friends
fuck if we just took a minute to wait and pretend to understand all of that darkness we let lurk in
it would be like a circus show of light delivering all of us from the three ring thing of everything
that is bad
our own macabre circus of rejection, judgement, and humiliation for all of our kind. So when you are done with your boyfriend, fiance, husband, i know not yet; talk to me first before every voyage and adventure set in opposition just for the fuck of it.
but what you can't count on
is that i'm so much older and I've been around
I don't think you might know what it is like
to double down
over years and years
it's like you get a discount
on the odds
for multiples of five years
cause who really lasts that long?
but who knows
cause life is like a lotto tarot hurricane
no sense to distribute the sad recompense
let's just fucking spend it before we pay
on all the debts we just made
and all of the futures that greyed out just fade(ed)
that's the point of grey vistas
all the deals and the souls we just promised in casual relation to make it
We try to pretend
we're all samurai
noble sacrafice to budo
it's cool that i alone must die
but i think we all smell some bullshit
in the way and the feel of this philosophy
that tells us to fight it instead of accept it
so let's beware those wayward philosophies
that perhaps might be misguided
telling us that nothing matters
as opposed to those that tell us
to simply love
all of those that surround us
And I saw her put her name into facebook on my phone
but when it was all said and done and i unlocked it all
it was gone
If i hadn't been dealing with this for almost twenty years; i think i'd cry like a little girl.
Also, I hold RRR entirely responsible for encouraging unedited writing. Be careful what you wish for ;-)
I tend to go through life
friends want to hang out with me
but I always find an excuse
I started blocking out the world
when society banished me
because what I am is not
what they expect of me
I never know what's going on
because at least then I'm not missing out
on everything I could have in the world
as long as I go without
I refuse to change the way I feel
for a standard set by society
you'll never understand my struggle
so please just let me be