i guess you have to learn to be content.
content with the boy you have
the clothes you own
the place you're in
the lot you've been dealt.

though i am not sure how you learn it.
i suspect that your mother teaches you
but i wouldn't know
would i

i would steal
everyone's happiness
and not even really care
(well
maybe
a little)
if i could make you feel better
right now.
i would capture all the smiles
in a carved box
and release them
while i lay against you
praying that one
would embark upon
your lips
i would
contain every laugh
wind them into a long
ball of yarn
rest my head in your lap;
tie you up.
i'd
pluck the sun
from the sky
like a yellow
bouncing ball
and give it to you
to obey your every whim
i'd ****** the moon
from it's holder
shrink it in my washing machine
and hang it in the corner
of your bedroom
i would
tickle your chest
with my lips
rub your neck
stroke your forehead
in my lap
if only i could
make it better
but that's the one thing
i
cannot
do

sometimes i forget where i am on the list of funny things that i say to you
to make you want me around.
sometimes i goof up and retell you a story
half true, half made-up
and i watch your smile glaze over
well,
at least you're still
smiling.

this social deviant rejects normal rules
or at least, she says she does
but truth be told
it hurts me just as much as any other self-conscious
self-inflicted
human being
when you don't seek me out
or you say
you'd rather hang out with her
than me.

i don't like admitting this kind of ****
it displays for all
that i am just a human
i like to think that i am more
but short-comings have short-fuses.

i define myself in my head quite deftly
by the very things i am not.
i am not
in love
i am not strong
i am not loud.

i am not all the things that i show people
like some childhood trinket i took a fancy to
passing it around the circle
waiting for other people to take delight in something that i relish
for a reason that is too simple for me to puzzle through.

i astound myself by how well i play it up
by how convincing my funny stories and shrugging shoulders are.
i am amazed at my ability to *******
(i get it from my mother)
but at the same time appreciative,
because i would be something altogether waif-like and diluted without it.

i depend on being something that i'm not
something that i'm still trying to decipher
something that maybe once was a part of me but got cut away
the year i started slicing my own flesh to drain out the sadness.

i guess what i'm trying to say is...
to the part of me that is loud:
to the part of me that drowns out the silent, open mouth screams and discolored arm-marks and the aching womb:

thank you.

paranoia of the 3rd degree
in 8th grade
when the boy i liked IM'd my friend
and said the shirt i wore to church made me look fat.

shaking nervousness in a 12 year old body
overweight
moving a fork from my plate to my mouth --
a true horror
listening to girls read calories
off a box of vanilla wafers

pinching my stomach fat
wanting to tear it off
an 8 year old who asked her older sister
to help her get thinner

decades i've wasted looking so close at every piece of me
i know how i look from every angle without a mirror
i've memorized every defect.
critical sections studied under a microscope:
i am not anything but scientific in my process.

i blow myself up to disproportionate sizes
and then wonder why sometimes i lay in bed and feel

huge.

and other times

so small.

after a while you'll begin to realize that the constant scrutiny and study of your temple is fruitless
that the hungry monster behind your ribcage
that eats dark lipstick and winged eyeliner and name brand clothes and highlighting powder and contouring brushes
that you sacrifice increments of time to every morning,
night
every prolonged glance in a mirror...
fuels itself off the notion that the images we see on a screen are the standard for cultural truth.

i turned 21 and decided to throw away the microscope.
to change what images i saw on my screens
to eliminate the photoshopped waists and fill them with pictures of normal, happy bodies
and i began to see the body that i exercised,
fed vegetables,
watered,
washed,
nurtured,
as not fat or ugly or unwanted
but as a perfect home for myself
and maybe someone else
if i wanted.

because the cultural truth lies in what you see in other humans
not dancing shadows on a screen in a cave
it lies in the gentle rolls of your stomach
and the crinkles around your lips and eyes
and the pimples on your forehead.
there is nothing garish
about reality.

i lie on my bed in a big L
and try to think about
what made me
me
stare my vanity
in the face
realize
that years
of precision makeup
layered on
like the rings on the inside
of a tree
are what made my personality
and that the varying degrees of ******
that i look like each day
dictate
my happiness
and that i am sick of
humans

a lot of things i choose not to write
a lot of thoughts i choose to keep to myself
a lot of fears that i let settle like silt in the back of my mind
i will not write about them
you will not hear about them
you will not know me

people frighten me

we do look after each other.
regardless of any competition:
your body, hair, clothes
the angles you get in your selfies.
the comments you get on your instagram.
regardless of anything.
regardless of whatever persona you adopt on facebook,
however seductive you choose to be,
however much attention you seek.
we do look after one another.

so many women tried to tell me about him.
women he convinced me not to respect
women i convinced myself not to respect
merely because he chose to look at them
so intensely
my jealousy
turned to hatred
when really
the fishnets, the makeup, the cleavage
they are my sisters.
they are my protectors.
and i hated them.

it was never her fault.
she was never the *****, she was never the ****.
i don't give a **** what pictures she posted.
she was not to blame.

and i see now.
i see that what you did with me
what you said to me,
all lines fed through a machine
all carefully constructed
(not to each girl, just for each situation)
you got out of it all.
the ultimate yes-man
fine-tuned to say anything,
everything any woman wants to hear.

i see it so blatantly now.
and yes, i still shake a little.
my fingers go cold and my arms get numb
and i feel that dull ache in my chest
but **** any tear that tries to find a way out
i don't have any more for you.

i know how you loved them
how you gorged on my love-sick tears
but you will get nothing
loving
from me

not anymore.

hugs and kisses
are for ten yearolds
you say
we've graduated
we're on another level
it's the same only better
come here,
you say.

i
stay.

i knew when i walked into my dark room tonight
that i was going to cry.
i've been ****** up enough times before
i know what it feels like.

and it's not even that you did it on purpose
to **** me over
i understand
you're just a kid, really
kids gotta have their fun
gotta have their rebellion
gotta have their fist wrapped around a heart -
i get it.

i think it's the fact that i've lost the last person i give a **** about
that bothers me
that i am now entirely alone
even though there are 20 others to take your place
i would never let them

another "bestfriend".
pound on my door, honey
go ahead
i won't be answering

i don't like crying
it makes me feel pathetic

i tired of this
so quickly
where did i go
all semester?
i don't think i've been here
at all
ask my gpa...
he'll agree.

stop making me watch scary movies
life is scary enough
but tell me that you love me...
and i'll watch anything you want

it would be so much easier
if we weren't afraid to hold one another
afraid to say things that we've thought
a million times
you always make a show of being so tough skinned...

for having seen so many
horror movies
i wouldn't ever guess
you were so afraid.

determined as i was
to avoid joining
the zombie revolution
my dad went and bought me
a new phone
looks like i was drafted in
to the "smart" generation
hopefully i won't end up as stupid.

*******.

i woke up this morning
rejoicing
in the strength with which
i slammed the door
in your face
and i was entirely fine
i even almost slept
ok
last night
didn't have to puzzle
over all the useless words
you ever said to me
(...maybe they weren't useless...)
and of course
i ***** myself once again
i managed to forget
to remove all the songs
we sang together
from my playlist
and as i stand here,
a hair-straightener tangled
in my hair
'smile' comes on
**** you
uncle
kracker

i
smiled

smile like you mean it
smile like you can't feel it
smile like the swollen match burns on your wrists smile up at you

hi
my name is
littlredwritinghood
and i am working a ****** job
so i can buy
an xbox this summer
so i can maybe smile
before august
what the hell
just trying to
up my chances

i look at myself in the mirror
and i see a red-haired leopard
with man-eating eyes
that are smudged with left-over eyeliner
from a night-out with the elitists

i see silky, curly red hair
that people so often
get entwined in
thinking that this is the reason
for the things i do

in the mirror my lips are a beautiful snarl
and my freckles,
camouflage for the jungle i creep in  
my nose,
a defining arc

reflected back at me,
a red-haired leopard
in a concrete jungle
doesn't belong here
got put in a zoo
on accident
a red-haired leopard
looking for escape
from inside of me

they'll try to tell you
that mirrors lie
but they
don't

mom was soft
like a cushion
when you sat on her lap as a child
and rested your cheek against her shoulder
she was better
than any
bed.

mothers should be soft.
i have come to this conclusion.
mom was never very thin
she was a perfect plump
with red cheeks
and rainbow eyes
and thin,
rough
dishwater fingers
that would stroke your cheek
and sing the goodnight song
she made up
just for us.

i don't like rainy nights.
it makes me feel like the whole world is crying.

people are always going to decide things about you.
what you need to do
is decide things FIRST.

decide that you are not going to put up with their ****.
make the executive decision to be a majestic *******.
remind them of the existence of zach galifianakis
and that one huge hideous fish thing in the depth of the sea
that eats lil ***** like you not only for breakfast
but for second ******* breakfast
because you're a ******* nerd
and that's how you like it.

decide to work your flaws into a masterpiece
some artists look at mistakes in paintings
do whole studies on them
and then decide they're genius
don't let a flaw get you down
it's what makes you human
it's what makes those other *******
not...

decide to be decisive.
decide that decisions are the same as choices
and choices are what define you...
they cracked you open before you were finished maturing
tried to change the outcome
like the ***** *** hoes that they are
but you...
you can choose,
decide,
force
your way into your own skin again...

finish growing up
then let the ******* have a go.

there are some people
in this world
who have no right
to occupy
your every thought.
not everyone
is
entitled
to a piece of you...
remember that.
be more careful
with who you give
yourself to
some people just
take
you
and do whatever
the ****
they want;
don't let them
it's not their
right.
some people will
ask for your
heart
then take it
look through it
like a piece of nothing
toss it
aside
they have no
right.
give yourself
to no one
but yourself
change for no one
but yourself
be no one
but yourself
trust no one
not even
you
because you,
dear red
always give yourself away
to murderers
and you die
over
and
over
again

The scorned heart shies from love and care
Scattered by too lustful a lip and hand
Learns to take the menial wear and tear
With bold eyes, brass knuckles, and diamond stand.
How does the muscle learn once more to exercise and share?
When does it remember how not to feel ******?
With swift fingers and wet lips love soon loses its flair.
Quickly flows the fire, and unplanned
Swift is its destruction and biting is its snare
How lonely are they that fall prey to its tumultuous sand!
Little frightened defenses crop up to eat their share
Strangling any flowers and sweetness that lay unmanned --
Nothing protects the gentle heart from this discourse,
Men oft take what they desire ungently, and with force.

i have learned very well
how to be awake.
my best teacher
and the one that was most interested
in seeing me succeed
was
Nightmare
along with his mentor
Trauma
and their friend
D
i
v
o
r
c
e
.
.
.

...they have taught me well enough
to make sure
i will never sleep
again
they have helped Tired
unpack from the back of my mind
and move into the new space
that just became available
behind my eyes
they have really
been looking out for me
every single day
these last two years
and i really owe my success
to them.

Divorce,
Trauma,
and
Nightmare,
you are excellent
at what you
do
and i commend you
for your
diligence

i'm really
******* myself majorly
by not writing this essay
it's actually kind of disturbing
how many ***** i don't give
for that fact
what happened
to
me

i fell in love
with a split end boy
every time i thought i had him
figured out
he'd run the other
way
i tried to catch him
pinpoint him
put him back
together
but he'd just
change direction
again
so i
cut him off

twinkle in the field
looked at my face one second too long
was something there?
i didn't see it

all i hear when i look in the mirror is the frivolous, ignorant sentence you uttered in bed one morning
after making love to me (should i call it that?)
"i wish your **** was a little bigger."

it echos in my head when you hold me
when you kiss me, your hand down my pants
when you're on top of me, biting my neck
when you hug my abdomen from your chair.

it's like it's written in my skin now
in the pathways of my neuro-system
after everything i have done to be beautiful in one ******* morning
one ******* night
23 ******* years of standing on the curved backs of billions of other women
struggling to have better anything, better everything
so that you can have more fun while ******* them
after all that
you voice your dissatisfaction with the fact that i am not photoshopped
or surgically altered
as i lay naked in your bed
after you've
"made love to me."

is this a sickness that is nature made?
were you born to be dissatisfied with perfection?
never satiated?
i believed that at least my *** was perfect,
despite chubby arms and a fat stomach.
the one thing i believed desirable
you destroyed
with one sentence.

i hope it is not natural.
i hope the internet
****
reddit
instagram
video games
whatever the ******* look at that makes you treat me like a consumable, customizatable option
taught you this
because i pray that my future son
will never even think to do
what you have done.

i don't like
being sticky
because things get attached to me
too easily
and i get a sad little feeling
watching them spin down the drain...
but i think you got stuck there
you keep trying
to crawl back up
i don't know what to do with you
i'm not sticky anymore
you cannot
stay with me

i miss him.

why do i miss him?
how
can i miss him
after everything?

one dream last night, after weeks and months of torture
and i remember the good parts
and these new boys will not do
i stop letting them talk to me
i miss him
i miss that man that took advantage of my innocence.
i truly miss him.
and right now,
in this moment
i know i would take him back.

if i could see
what is hurting me
i'd tell it to stop
for the love of
god

i like strawberry ice cream.
it makes me feel like my tummy is smiling
even when my mouth can't.
it makes me feel ok
for the ten minutes i take
to eat a spoonful
it makes me feel
like these ten minutes that i have
aren't going to be spent
wasting something
even though
that will never be
true.

honey, you are overrated
and overdone
like the fast and the furious
six
you get the job finished
quick
with a big explosion
at the end
which also comes quickly
but not quick enough
for me
and there's absolutely nothing
inbetween
that's why
in the end
you'll leave
and i'll be
glad.

ah, that frozen "goodnight"....
moose has gone deep freeze
post-apocalyptic
damage control
sass has struck again
and that is what hurt me the most, out of all of it
even though i did all this **** on purpose
that lack-luster "goodnight"
no "I Love You's"
or those silly little hearts
no pet names
no smiles
is what hit home

i will miss you. but this is better
this is right
this is good
i cannot be with people

i am too frightened of myself.

the first night of summer
and i am
trying to figure out
how to make my brain stop working
how to stop thinking
about all the things that have happened to me
that i can't control
i finally understand
people who get ****-faced
to feel better

i stole a typewriter
from the side of the road
actually
maybe it was free...
anyway,
i kind of think i saved it...
he's from the 1980's,
a little old for me
but we have this strange
romance
going on
he writes so
pretty

surprise, baby!
daddy brought you
a plethora of pills
a candy-store of homeopathics
a comfortable array of fixer-uppers.

go down the line
taste every flavor
melt them under your tongue
swallow them
drink them
drop them
watch daddy
watch you
for signs of
improve-
ment

he sees you slip away
into a drugged state
a smile slides onto baby's face
like melting butter
daddy is happy
because he thinks
baby
is

stack all the dishes
in neat little piles
to make them look
smaller
pretend that you spent your time
washing the dishes
instead of in the bathroom
your head hung
over the rim
of the toilet

bleed out of me
until i am empty
take away what i see
set the pain free.

i just want to feel better
i just want to be gone
i want her to see
that she is wrong.

bleed
out
of
me.

there are never enough cuts
to heal the scars
everything could seep out of me
and still they'd be

there.

angel's mouths
drip blood
as they look up from my wrists
pale-faced
halos
their kindness
frightens me
the most

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

some people are just plain *****-*** crazy
and i can't help feeling bad for them
but if i feel bad for too many people
all i do is feel bad all the time
and that just don't work
for this girl
some crazy people i have to let slide
i can't let them use me as a foothold
every time
footholds just get stepped on
and that just don't work
for this girl
that just don't
work

take all the little bits of me
(the good parts)
and synthesize me
into a prettier version
with a prettier personality
and prettier thighs.
then you will be able to forgive yourself
for breaking me
in the first place
but i won't forgive you
i am too
pretty
to forgive

you forgot that part.

Hey you
Look at you
Do you want to be my friend?
I like the way you smile
And the way you wend
Your way to me.

I like the curve of your neck
The way you turn all the way around
To check
If I'm looking...
Most of all,
I like the way
Your eyes talk to me

                 Quietly.

I like the way you hold your pen
The way you write
How you laugh,
And when.
The way you walk
Towards me
Is concerned
And a bit bouncy
Your heels
Seem to chuckle
And your eyes
Talk to me...

            Quietly.

if i had the poetry to tell you how soft i am in hot bubbles
i could drive you mad
the combination of my prepackaged scents would make you curse
like they used to
for that one boy
whom i have willfully discarded

if you did not have the imagination
i would show you
and christen your forehead
with fig and blood orange

if you cannot reach my tousled wet head,
if you cannot not kiss my freckled shoulders,
if you cannot not put your arms around
my soft, bathwater waist
i should not tell you
that you could

no one
likes a tease

such a sweet tinkling
to bring such ugly words
you are an animal
you are a monster
you are right
i never deserved you

comfort in my bed
in my phone
in the text that you sent me
that didn't say goodbye
but meant it.

It's not like I'm making an effort
It's not like I really care
But sometimes I wonder
If you remember
How my hair
Smells.

It's not like you're someone special
It's not like I've never seen you before
But every time you walk in that door
My heart feels...
Funny.

Maybe it's like you're normal
Or maybe you're just not
Maybe you've got that something...
Maybe you've got a lot.

my stomach
is punishing me
for every bite
every swallow
i wonder if
it's supposed to
hurt this much

my cat ate
my bestfriend's
hair-bow
the one she
let me borrow
apparently
sorry
isn't good enough