that rerun I watched last night
the *** version of Gunsmoke
where the foreplay is not
nine seasons long
I limped just like Chester,
yearning for Miss Kitty,
knowing her
and Marshall Dillon were
upstairs, having a "tea" ,
and well, in last night's version,
Miss Kitty was unforgettable.

Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Run...Now
Don’t...stop
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Dreams
Long ago, there was a little black boy with a dream
A dream to one day be free of all the chaos in society
Long ago, there was a little white boy who held a gun up to his head
All because he became fed up with the injustices that trapped him within his own body
They were eight
Since when did the playground for eight year olds become the life that not even us adults wish to live
Since when did eight year olds cry so many crimson tears that they form a river big enough to swim in
Better yet, drown in
Back then this was unheard of
Back then it was war against color
You know those as white as snow against those as black as dirt
Now it is just pure ignorance
You know black lives, white lives, all lives matter
WELL ***** THAT!
The children’s lives are what matter
You know the future of our very existence on this earth
But it seems no one really notice that the children are suffering from our stupidity
Which leaves only one question
Does anybody really care
Tick...Tock
Gun...Shot
Say goodbye...to the dreams...that have been lost

An instant such as that, god only knows how much it had hurt. I resolved on a plan, a terrible, disgusting plan. One that required me to push away my conscience and semblance of self entirely.

A plan which left me ultimately heartless.

Oliver Starkweather, the only boy in the world. He had taken the part of me which made me more vulnerable to him than anyone else. Not only that, he was the only person I felt that I truly cared about, the only person, family included, that I could even begin to imagine using the word love on. The only entity that could ever hurt me. And that realization tied me to him forever.

Yet, that made me weak when I wanted to be strong, controlled when I wanted to control.

I had discovered a secret in a week that Oliver hadn’t in a year. His father; rich, generous, and virtually absent from his life, had a small additional house built on their property. Something he’d told me once was, “My dad works in sales.” At night when I couldn’t sleep, I took to exploring their big empty house. One week into my stay, I dared to venture out into the newer one. It was there that I discovered the bookcase. It appeared normal, every book on the shelf was dusty and ridiculously boring looking. The rest of the room had similar bookshelves with similar looking books, but they were mixed in with vibrant titles and a more alluring collection. From there, I began taking down books off of the shelf and flipping through them. The majority were as boring inside as they were out, but the fifth one I collected - which came from the top right corner - turned me whole perception upside down.

Being a morbid little girl, I had always been fascinated with taboos. I would sneak into my dad’s office at night and search words on his computer. Words like gore or ******* or drugs. When I opened that book I knew instantly, even at fourteen, that a book with all the inside pages cut out and baggie after baggie of white powder inside meant trouble. On the shelf, I found three more secret stashes. After that I’d seen enough.



    When the autopsy was performed, the results read drug overdose. My tracks were well covered, for Oliver’s dad assumed Oliver had been secretly dipping into his bookshelf. Dealing was a felony that Mr. Starkweather was not about to risk, so he confessed that Oliver had been struggling with a drug problem. Sweet, demure, heartbroken me was sent back home, and years of therapy brainwashed me into so much denial that I was able to bottle up the entire story and force myself to forget. Deep down, I’d always known, but my mental unrest defied that.

Consequently, he returned. Maybe karma drove me crazy, maybe it was guilt.

But more than anything, it was probably loneliness.

Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
The little drops of anguish will all run together,
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
Into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
On the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
Into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
A second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
Have gone so far I'll wander mazily
Over all the earth, asking, will you
Come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Taking your life was the most selfish and selfless thing I have ever done and will ever do. Oliver and I, we shared the mutual consensus that no one in the world had ever loved us as much as we loved each other. Moreover, we understood one another; we shared the commonalty of unstable upbringings, of neglect, and most pertinently, of loneliness.

We’d dually been abused, rejected, and abandoned by those who were supposed to be our caretakers and guardians and parents. Perhaps, that in itself was how we’d grown such an indestructible bond.

And yet.

I saw a glint of a monster inside of you. The previous night. A manifestation of the horrors you’d faced, suddenly channeled through you. From that moment onward, I began to understand the truth. All of the anguish you’d survived may one day define you. One day, the innocence would be gone and in its place, the product of your childhood would be born.

On the last morning of your life, who you were, was living proof of good. Proof that a person could exist so pure, and kind to the very core. The best and most honorable person in my life. The only friend I’d ever known. I wanted to preserve your memory; a perfect relic, never to be tainted by the evil which would one day consume you.

I knew that as you lived, you were the only entity I’d felt genuine compassion for. The only human I’d ever loved. The only person in the whole world who could ever hurt me. That vulnerability ran like
poison through my logic.

And so, I resolved.