Sunday, May 10, 2009

I noticed you.

Something in her face reminds me how flawed she really is.
I'm sensitive; easily bruised; a battered peach.

The exterior, a fragile layer of feeling.
Taken over by imperfections,
Impressions; indentations.
Growing towards the center,
Reaching, contaminating.
A glimmer of hope,
Pushing forth from the center, outwards.
Two forces collide.
Last chance, you lose.
A battered peach, rotting away.


"I have a heart, you know?"
The only phrase playing through my mind.

I feel awful knowing that my mother wastes her time worrying about me, and caring about me and loving me.
I feel awful knowing that the sole reason my mother is having heart problems is because I couldn't be another miscarriage for her.
I feel awful knowing that my mother hates me and hates living with me.
I feel awful knowing that I forgot to wish my mom a Happy Birthday on her birthday because I know that I've ruined her life. She deserved one day.
I feel awful knowing that I made my mother into an alcoholic.
I feel awful knowing that I'm the entire center of my mom and dad's marital issues.
I feel awful knowing that since my brother was little, all I've done is slowly ruin his life and make everything harder for him in the long run.
I feel awful knowing that my brother thinks I'm this immature little girl that fucks everything up for everyone else.
I feel awful knowing that I let everyone down by "dropping out" of high school.
I feel awful knowing that my mother thinks I'm a huge disappointment.
I feel awful knowing that my mother was forced to work on her birthday, getting flowers ready for a prom and a graduation that her daughter will never get to go to because she's a fuck-up.
I feel awful knowing that you think I'm a burnout.
I feel awful knowing that my close friends could easily replace me in their lives when I needed people the most.
I feel awful knowing that I can't even successfully kill myself because I'm too fucking scared.

I have a heart. I have a fucking heart. I swear to God I do.


You know what finally broke my heart?
You lied to me.
You said nothing happened.
I read it on your fucking blog.
Then, I proceeded to cry my eyes out.
Thank you for finally pulling the trigger.
That silly gun had been dangling there for sometime.
It looked better in my mouth, anyway.

You wanna talk about pregnancy scares, girl? Well, let me know when you get to my level. I've had too many to count. I, too, got to spend the last three weeks dealing with the possibility of having a fucking baby living and breathing in my uterus. Do you understand how I felt? Terrified of disappointing my parents? Realizing I'd have to kill a person in my stomache, if I was? Knowing that I'd be this incredible mother, but knowing I'd have to give it up? Afraid of hurting Roman, the one person I actually have, by getting rid of it? Wondering if I should just toss myself down the stairs and pretend like nothing ever existed? You don't understand. You couldn't. Yours didn't come with pressure. Mine came with pressure, and disappointment. No choice would have been safe. Don't you dare act like I don't know how it feels to be scared of pregnancy. I bawled my eyes out every fucking day, thinking about how excited Roman was about us having a baby together, and how brokenhearted he'd be when I told him I couldn't do it. Hearing the disappointment in his voice when I explained that "i'm just not ready, I can't do it." Wondering if my baby was supposed to be the next President of the US, or the person with the cure for AIDS.

A best friend, during a pregnancy scare, might have mentioned that the reason they're having the pregnancy scare is because said, "best friend" almost fucked your crush from the last 6 or 7 years. Or maybe best friend's shouldn't lie and said nothing happened, so that a person wouldn't blow off the idea that their best friend could be pregnant. A best friend probably wouldn't have gone with a girl, who she claims to be unable to stand, to get her pregnancy test. I mean, it's all hypothetical, though.

We are not the same. Do not compare us.
The difference between us is clear.

You will be stuck here because you don't try hard enough to get yourself out. It's not going to happen for you, you have to earn it. Fuck you for acting like my life is a piece of fucking cake, and I get everything. My parents don't do shit for me. Yeah, I got to drop out, it came with being labeled a failure by anyone that ever mattered, and being constantly ostracized by, what birth calls, my family. Or wait, how about the fact that my parents tell me when I'm allowed to be home, and when I am, I'm not allowed to eat their food without paying. How's them apples? I found my little, tiny, avenue out. I left you alone for one week. One fucking week. If you really broke down from my non-existence in your life so much that you boarded the S.S.ChrisTEASE, then our friendship certainly isn't healthy for you anyway.

Here's another thing, you drink for your own reasons.
You have no idea why I do what I do.
Hell, you don't know anything about me.

These are not my reasons for smoking pot.
-It brings us out of this horrifying reality into something better.
-It's social.
-It's fun.
-It would drive our parents crazy.

I smoke for these reasons:
-To help myself focus because of my ADD.
-To help me expand my thoughts.
-To feed my addiction.
-To finally open myself up to someone. (Roman.)

"I don't think I've changed much.
I'm still fucking weird. I'm still me."

YOU are not YOU.
Evan killed you.
Now all you do is:
-Get fucked up.
-Flirt with everyone.
-Hang out with Christine.
-Complain about everything that isn't suiting you.

"And even if I have, why aren't I allowed to change?
God knows she has."
I grew up. You just.. changed. They are not the same thing.

"I think she's just too burnt out to recognize me."
Considering you've taken virtually no time to call or text me on my phone in the last month, you can shut the fuck up. You have no idea what burnt out is. You have no idea what's going on with me. I think my GED scores prove that you're moronic if you think for a second that I am burnt out. No seriously, Katt. That crossed the fucking line. Screw you. Maybe you're just too much of an alcoholic to finally see that you're making mistake after mistake in your life. Did that one sting? Good, now we're even.

"'I rolled the best blunt of my life today, I'm so excited.'
'I thought you said you were quitting?'
'No, yeah. I am. Today was my last one.'
She had said that a week before."
I was quitting for Roman.
Roman told me he'd be more upset if I didn't quit.
I dont' even smoke everyday.
Does it matter?
You drink way more than I smoke,
and even if you didn't,
you'd die before me anyway
considering marijuana's versus alcohol's
effects on the body.
So, if you could kindly shut the fuck up about my smoking,
it'd be appreciated.
It's simply hypocritical
considering you used to love smoking more than I did.
All you did was move onto alcohol, a worse demon.

"The only differences are that she dropped out of school a month before graduation, and I'm still trying."
^^ That does not make you better than me.

"She found an outlet, somewhere to get away to, and I am stuck here."
You're only here as long as you stay. Want out? Earn it.

"Her parents let her do whatever she wants, and I'm still shaking in my bones."
Grow up, take control of your situation. It's your life.
They don't let me do anything. I choose what happens to me.
My choices effect me. Your choices effect you.
Don't let your mother or your brothers or your teachers or anyone manipulate you.
If you were a puppet, you'd have strings.

...and just in case you cared, I passed my GED test with flying colors.
i got a:
when I should have only gotten a:

1 comment:

  1. You won't want to read any of this, I'm sure.

    I told you nothing happened for the mere purpose that I didn't want you to get upset. I knew you would. I put that warning at the top of that post for you. I didn't want you to read it, but I still needed to get it out. I'm not really one to be like, "HAHA YEAH MAN I GOT DRUNK AND GAVE CODY HEAD AND IT WAS SOOOOO AWESOME." Because it wasn't. It was a mistake. A stupid, foolish mistake.

    I'm pretty sure it's also a foolish thing for you to say that my scare didn't come with pressure. Any teenage girl in that situation is feeling the pressure, I'm sure. Worst case scenario and I was actually pregnant, my parents would have been just as horrifyingly disappointed as yours. Any sensible ones would be. I didn't have the upset boyfriend situation, because the guy that would've gotten me pregnant is fucking three other girls as if it's nothing, hundreds of miles away. Because yes, that's right, it was impossible for Cody to have gotten me pregnant. As much of a drunk bitch that you think I am, I remember that. I stopped. It would have been Ryan's.
    I went with Christine because she has a license and a car. She took me to Germantown. I could not have gotten a pregnancy test from within Poolesville because I didn't want anything to spread if anyone saw. I know, I'm a paranoid fuck. So be it.

    You're right about something though. Evan did absolutely kill me. I should have listened to you when you said he was bad news. I should have done something about it, but I was in too deep. As if you haven't been there before.
    You don't, however, have any right to say that those things are ALL I do at this point, considering we haven't really hung out in weeks. Yeah, I do drink. But usually only one night of the weekend. Yeah, I do flirt alot. Since when is that new? Since when do you not? Yeah, I hang out with Christine sometimes. Because she's good at manipulating me so that I can't say no. She's pushy. I can't change that. I complain about things only on my blog. To vent. That is also not anything new.

    Yeah, that was a bitchy thing to say. I knew you'd get defensive about the burnt out comment. I probably shouldn't have gone that far, and I realise that it was fucked up for me to say that. For the record, "that one" hardly stung. You're using all these quotes from my blog post, perhaps you skipped over this part: "I'm going to write it, publish it, reread it later and hopefully realise how much I'm massacring my own life."
    I am perfectly aware of the mistakes I'm making. I'm also perfectly aware that my drinking habits aren't looking good for my future. However, I am trying to change my actions, especially when I'm drunk. I'm trying to get some self control back and work on getting my shit together. Believe me or not, I couldn't care less.

    So are you saying you only smoke bud once a week?
    Okay, cool. That's fine. That actually makes me feel a little better about the whole thing, really.
    If you didn't notice, I never once said that you smoking pot was a bad thing, or certainly that it was worse than my drinking, or that I was better than you because I'm still in school.
    You treated that entire blog as though it was an attack at you. I'm not out to get you, Blaine. I wasn't even trying to piss you off, or make you upset, or anything. I was simply just trying to get your attention, and maybe make you understand my side of the story. That I felt abandoned, and that Roman/his friends/that place/your marijuana addiction was taking you away from me. Because HEY-HEY, look who was right again, I was being SELFISH. Zinger.

    At least the pictures were cute.

    You've made it pretty clear you don't want to be friends, and as much as that kills me, it's your choice. I will respect that.
    I'm glad you did so well on your GED test. You're going places, Blaine.