Mami was my grandmother.
Was.
Because she's dead.
She died October 20th.
The day after my best friend's birthday party.
The day after a boy said i was pretty.

I cried, of course,
but as the days passed i realized i wasn't so sad.
And that made me really angry.
How couldn't be sad?
What was wrong with me?

I remember this day when she wrote my name on a notebook.
She wanted to talk to me.
She said she was sorry about what happened.
Long story.

I remember when she had the stroke.
It was my brother's birthday and she was so happy on the phone.
Mom was smoothing my hair and my aunt called.
I remember the lost look in her eyes.
I remember my sister crying.
I remember telling my brother on the phone.
I remember crying.
But i can't remember was was the last thing she said to me.
And that's ****** up.

After she died i understood my mixed feelings.
I miss my grandmother.
But the lady in the bed of a ****** hospital wasn't my grandmother.
I know it sounds mean.
But it's the truth.

That year Susie Hydes went to school wearing a pink skirt.
So the girl bought a pink skirt with her money.
But hers was cheap.
And her brother laughed at her.

That year Susie Hydes wore black eyeshadow to a party.
So the girl went back home and used her mom’s eye shadow.
But she didn’t look pretty.
She looked silly.

That year Susie Hydes let a boy touch her breast under her shirt.
But nobody wanted to touch the girl’s breast.
So she went home.
And touched it herself.
But it wasn’t nice.
It was sad.

That year Susie Hydes wasn’t Susie anymore, she was Susan.
So the girl told everybody to call her Amanda ‘cause that was a misterious name.
But nobody listened.
So she was just the girl.

That year Susie Hydes was prom queen.
But that year the girl didn’t do anything.
She just gave herself a shot in the head with her dad’s gun.

it's funny how mom complains of me using my cellphone at dinner,
but she doesn't stop me.
it's funny how my math teacher said i have a bad attitude,
but he didn't explain the excersises to me because i didn't had the book.
it's funny how last year the whole class hated the priest,
but now he's dead everybody thinks of him as a saint.
it's funny how that sophomore boy used to talk to me all the time,
but now claims he doesn't know who i am.
it's funny how much i wanted to go out as a kid,
but now my body hurts by the idea of getting out of bed.

hope it stills funny when i'm dead.