She looked so sad, I swear

I just remember you looked so sad, love. Tears edging at the corners of your eyes, your mouth shut tight.
So sad, so lonely, so lost. And I remember wanting to give you the biggest hug I ever possibly could right there.
Just taking your hand and leading you as far away as I could.
Getting in a car, driving into the sunset and never looking back.

I remember the way you sort of choked on your sobs for a while, trying not to cry, biting your lip.
You kept glancing behind yourself; kept checking if anyone was going to help you at all.

I know I should have helped you.
That was my job, there.
I should have helped you, love. You were just so sad.

I know I could have made you happy.

They've forgotten, haven't they?

I was thinking today, before I went to sleep, about lights.
The way darkness can seem comforting, or scary. The way sometimes having a little light shone on something makes you feel that much safer, or it makes everything glow in weird ways, casting creepy shadows around everything.

I don't know what any of this means, because it doesn't mean anything.
But I'm saying, I guess, that even if the lighting is terrifying, I'd still chase after the people I care about if they walked into darkness.

I'd be scared shitless, but I love them.
So darkness or blinding light, or anything in between, I'm there for them if they need me.
I am.
I want them to remember that.

Close proximity

The close proximity of the world is really tripping me out.
Everyone's so scarily close, cheeks brushing, shoulder's touching.

And imagine.
If someone were to fall, would everyone come tumbling down too?

See, I don't think so.
I think everyone else would just let go of that person and reform their group around their fallen form.

Simple.
The close proximity ebbs and flows. We are apart, we are together, and the outsiders don't know.

It's everyone, and everyone.
And we're all on one side.

The same sides, really. There's no line in between, no walls built up.
We can all just tell who's who, somehow.
We all just know. 

Hug drugs

I'd forgotten how much I loved physical contact. I'd forgotten how much I loved hugs, and people rubbing my shoulders, and brushing their arm against mine.
I'd forgotten what it was like not to fear the touch of their acidic hands. I'd forgotten what it was like not to fear the voice behind their words.

I'd forgotten, I'd forgotten.
But today she clung tightly to me, and I held on. For my life, I guess you could say.
So many people hugged me today.
So many people I was only waiting to reach out to me and pull me back in.

I was so far out, lost. So lonely and sad.
I was contemplating suicide today.
I graduate, I die.
And then she came downstairs and held me tight, letting her skin brush against the skin on my arms.

And so many people reached out today, to pull me in tightly and tell me they're going to miss me.

I truly didn't know this many people cared about me.
Honest words.
And I'll be just fine.

If only, if only.

When good words become Bad. 

Pretty or not

Pretty people of the world unite
we will throw a bash tonight.
Loud and thumping beat in tow
follow down the roads that glow.
Lights and beams and laser smiles
getting wet, it's been a while.
In the lake, upon the hill.
We're up too high, standing still.
And catch the bubbles
on your tongue.
They sting they bleed,
but we're having fun.
So scream out loud,
and louder yet.
Jump into the lake,
you're wet, you're wet.
With stitches here, and stitches there
you are a mistress, full of fear.
Crack your whip, draw your sword,
fight your demons without a word.
Pretty people, pretty girls
With that blood,
make rainbow swirls.
And drink some more, and drink some more.
Flying high, and tryin'ta score.

But you don't see,
the wolf just there.
Standing still,
with his nasty leer.
You're having fun
that soon will end.
He's after YOU
and her, your friend.

Keep safe tonight
Stay high, stay light.
Floating far,
floating bright.
In NYC,
the bright big home
for people who
love to groan.
And chatter chatter chit,
chatting up a storm.
Hide in gutters grey,
pretty people of the norm.

Humans, you see
are only just so smart.
We'll all fall flat on our face,
we'll all, some day, fall short.
And pretty one or not,
you're just as lost as I.
Because we are both human,
we will both die.

Roadrunner run road road runner runner run

We are liars, hiding behind our marks and furs,

so that the world will pass us by

not knowing

who we really are.

And if the world doesn't really know us,

we can get away 

with anything.

Remembering me

Yearbooks. "SIGN MINE, SIGN MINE!"

Everyone gets one, and you have to be aware that, not everyone wants you to sign theirs.
But today, 1, 2, 3 ,4, 17 people asked me to sign theirs, and even more, because I lost count, and it was nice, because I didn't realize that many people wanted to remember me.

I was ready to forget everyone.
I still am, but that's because I always am.

But it's nice to think people out there are going to be thinking about me.
I think about them sometimes. But that doesn't mean anything.

I think about Jellyfish, too.
It really doesn't mean anything.

When I talk about pain, you see...

Imagine the grass stained knees from rolling around in the jungle. Imagine the laughing that floats lazily through the air. Imagine the lemonade spilled on your dress-up shoes, into your perfect, white socks. The socks that, later, would be running through the jungle at top speed, so everyone could only see flashes of your passing body, arms racing and pulling your forward, pumping back and forth.
Imagine the people chasing you, COPS. Only not cops at all, in fact, just ghosts.
You run because it's a game, and you're playing. You put your foot in, got counted.
You
don't
back
out
now.
Imagine running to the edge of a cliff, and looking down.
But it's not a cliff, it's not a jungle. It's the edge of your apartment building, and you're bundled up in a thin cotton sweater that's slightly too big.
You clamber up to the edge of the railing, sitting on the concrete blocks. It's easier to get up, you notice, so it's easier to tell you've grown.
But you're weak.
Slowly, you pull both legs over so they're hanging off the building, and you watch the people walk below you, living a normal life.

Hours pass, your lips turn blue, but you do not move.
The cops are right behind you, in all their grey, non-existent fashion. You don't dare turn around, but you know snakes are curling up behind you, their poisonous jungle fangs out.
"Shoo, get," you say. "Go on."
The silence on their parts tells you to jump.
JUMP!
But you do not move, you do not move.

Imagine the grass stained knees, stained socks, soaking in the dirty swamp water, grey skin. Is that what you want? No?
Then imagine it dipping into fresh spring water. Sliding in, stepping in, into a river? Into the water, cold. Clambering over rocks, over bottom scum, but it's nice and fresh. Into the water, and you're breathing clean for once.
Greenery surrounds you, rare birds cawing and chirping. Echoes of dreams you never had.

Silence from the cops, from the robbers. Silence all through-out the jungle, until one of your ghost friends bumps your back, and you slip.
The ice cracks off the concrete building and falls through air with you, as if you were suspended outside someone's window. But then you fall, and fall, and you're on the ground, the ice sitting nicely on your sweater, melting through it's soft blue fabric.  Blood pools at the sides of your ribs, from your head, your ears, your skin.
Puncture wounds, holes, rips and tears.

"Ouch," you think, your last dying thought.
"Just ouch."

I just don't like water

Ellie says, "We need to go over to Mara's this weekend and go swimming. It's really fun." She smiles, her goofy smile, and dips her feet in the water of the lake.
We're at the beach, on a pier. With our class, but no one's Here.
"Yeah," I say. "Only, no."
Ellie doesn't look up from the water, instead runs her finger along the concrete edge of the pier, focusing on that.
"Why don't you go anywhere near water?" she asks finally.
I smile, INWARD, sort of twisted and dark.
"I'm near water right now, aren't I?"
She sighs, looking up, and directly into my eyes.

I frown, give in. "Fine," I say. "Fine."
"I just, don't like water, okay?"
She doesn't speak, but neither do I.

I just don't like water. I just don't like how it envelopes me, covering everything.
I don't like how it has control of me. I don't like how it touches everywhere, spreading. 
I don't like being so stuck, in such a place, that I have no control over.
Water is unpredictable, and you could Drown.
Water isn't terrible, no.
I am.
But I don't want to drown, because that's not fun. It's fairly quick and peaceful.

"Okay," she trips.
"Whatever you say."

We both know, of course, she's thinking about scars and I'm thinking about stars.
About flying away, and landing amongst them, choking,
out there,
in space.

It's just like water, you see, but it's not wet. 
My ribs would crack, my lungs would ache, and I would die
with an explosion.

Pop! And my head would be gone.

For today only? Ha.

I'll tell them I'm tired, which isn't a lie.
I'll say, "It's fine. I'm just in a quiet mood today. It's been a bad week. For sleep, I mean. For sleep, of course, because that's all that's wrong."
And they'll believe me, and it'll be fine, and I'll just not care and everyone will forget about it in a few seconds and won't care and won't care and won't care.

Hold your head up, kid, stand tall.

"I'm happy," I tell her, silently thanking the world for the ability to lie.
"I talked it over with someone and everything's just fine."

She believed me, so she'll stop worrying. Worry causes stress, and stress is not good for anyone.
Good people shouldn't get stressed out because some loser is feeling a little under the weather mentally.
It's not a big deal.

Is love alive?

We hide in the trenches our words carve so deep,

when the sunny side up is all we seek.

We hide in the s p a c e s between our ribs,

the counting numbers and the eating fibs.

We hide in the wake of boats passing by,

over the oceans that we cried. 

We hide in the country, in the patriotic pride

when all we really want is someone by our side. 

***

I still believe in magical faeries,

in tales

and stories

where the good guys always win.

I still believe in the beauty we wield

but I regret,

I digress,

ever starting to. 

Resilience

"I can't help but think about the future," Nova mumbles, picking grass from the ground to the side of the baseball field. She watches the rest of her class as they play, wondering why they don't feel so god damned terrible all the time.
"What's going to happen?" she asks the air.
Ellie walks over and sits down next to her, breathing loudly.
"Good game," she says. "You should have played; it was fun."
Nova watches her carefully, checking all the signs. Real smile, eyes glittering, cheeks flushed, hair astray...
"I've been thinking about killing myself," Nova whispers. She keeps checking those same signs. Keeps checking and rechecking them, superstitiously.
The smile sort of drops like the ground has been pulled out from under it, and the eyes turn to ocean. The cheeks hang a little lower, and Ellie's entire face seems to darken.
"Don't," she says.
Nova shrugs. "It's only a thought."
But both she and Ellie know it's a little more than that.
Ellie starts picking out grass too, thinking.
"I have a question," she says clearly, looking up at Nova.
"Yeah?"
"Why?" Ellie asks, narrowing her eyes, the same question reflecting in them.
"Because everyone always says, you know, make life worth living."
Ellie watches her carefully.
Nova chokes a little bit inside, too chickenshit to keep going, but she pushes herself with a sob hanging in the back of her throat.
"But I can't...can't make it worth it anymore. I can't."
Nova's eyes water a bit, and she tries to look down.

"All right everyone. Back inside! School's almost out..." Everyone else starts walking slowly back towards the school, some carrying bases or bats from the game.

"Come on," Nova says. "We gotta go."
Ellie is resistant, and holds Nova's arm as she tries to walk off.
"You'll be here tomorrow, right?"
Nova shrugs, feeling self-conscience.
"No. I want to talk to you tomorrow. You WILL be here tomorrow."
-Silence-

He's Real

I just woke up from the weirdest dream ever.

We were at school, but not our school.

We were in the bathroom, but not the bathroom.

We were writing about god, but not about god.

And then somehow it was just me and you, kid.

And somehow your arm was around me.

And you said the same thing you said to me last time we talked.

You know that time you walked me back to school for no reason?

You said, "Hi."

And then I said, "Hi."

And then you leaned in closer and said, "Quality time, here."

And I said, "Sure, kid."

And then you kissed my cheek.

But it's weird, you know? Because you're That Kid, at school.

The one who wears t-shirts in winter, comes to class halfway through the afternoon,

plays music loud, but music absolutely no one's heard of, not even me.

You're the one who's AMAZING at guitar, but won't join the guitar ensemble for a million dollars.

The one who's just so...so indie, so metal, so tough, but sweet.

I don't even know.

You're every perfect guy from every teen book, but better, because you're real.

Maybe that's it.

You're Yourself. You're Real. 

And this dream? It's all happened before.

But why the fuck did you talk to me, anyway?

I. Don't. Talk.

You know that, Kid. You know that, because for some reason I told you.

I'M the secret keeper, not you.

Shut up. 

it's not funny...we're not laughing...

It's funny, because the only thing that kept me from crisscrisscrossing my legs last night
was the fact that I didn't even have the energy to do it.

My hands shook,
my head spun,
and I couldn't stop Thinking.

Third, fourth, fifth, sixth.
It's the seventh time this has happened that I can remember.

Oh, fun.

Ghost

Invisible.

The day they see me,
I'll alienate myself more than necessary.

That way, my grey skin won't matter
when it changes colour.

Red is just a nice shade of the rainbow as any.

Sunlight

It's like the sunlight hates me.
It grazes my skin, leaving hot fingerprints along my memory. But it doesn't really
touch me.
Or maybe it does, but I don't feel it.
It's like the sunlight hates me,
because it refuses to let me feel
the warmth and happiness
it lets everyone else
feel.

Careful quiet

Silent safety on the swing
silence reeks in everything
Silent safely on your walk
silent safety, we don't talk.

Swift and quiet here we are
we are silent, in the car
Swift and quiet everywhere
we are quiet, we don't care.

Silence careful in our ears
love and kissing, no not here.
Silence careful every day
we'll be quiet either way.

Hidden deep inside ourselves
we mustn't spoil on the shelves
We are cupboards caving in
crashing dishes; everything.

Silent careful, shush my dear
Love and peace, none of it's here.
Silent careful, soft and swift.
Take pride in quiet, take flight, and, lift.

Going higher, much too high
Breathe in the air, breathe out a sigh
Careful quiet, all alone
Take your breaths, but breathe in stones.

And choke on them,
and cough and sputter
and now you are left to wonder
where the air went,
where'd it go?
It's all just gone,
you're much alone.
And choke on them,
and cough and sputter
and now you are left to wonder
where the air went,
where'd it go?
It's all just gone
you're much
                   a
                          l
                                o
                                        n
                                               e

Balance

Balance.
Balance, on the blank lines.
The bank lines,
along the river.

Balance from here
to Indiana
along the back roads
in the back loads
of cars.

Balance,
when you are running,
and nothing
will be able to pull you down.

Even though you are unstable,
balance as best you can,
for as long as you can,
'til all your limbs ache
and your lungs give up.

Balance.
I promise you,
it's worth it.

All the more, and it's completely dead

I love you so much.

You're like my fish; always There.
The day you leave your bowl and die
is the day I die a little more inside.

Sleepless

Nova walks into school and flops her bag down next to her locker. The dark circles under her eye are significantly less impressive thanks to the make-up she's used to cover them up. She sinks down to a sitting position with her head resting on her locker. 

"No sleep?" Melanie asks, sitting down next to her.

"Not really." Nova opens her right eye and looks at Melanie. She's wearing her yellow sweater again.

"Oh, right. You like, never sleep." Melanie smiles and pulls Nova into a hug. 

"But it's okay," she promises. "We have a substitute today. You can just sleep in class."

Nova finds it easy to remind herself that in 8 hours, she'll be able to sleep again. 

Lately, she's been on a sleeping schedule of every other night. And sometimes even less. If she didn't already miss enough school, she'd have time to get her sleeping back to normal. 

But oddly enough, not even sleeping pills were helping. 

Melanie stopped hugging her and kissed her on the forehead before standing up. 

"Guess I'll see you in class," she said.

Nova waited until Melanie was gone, then smiled. 

Girls certainly are the most caring...

Repetition

Last night I was thinking about the word Ridiculous.

I was thinking about alternative ways to pronounce it -RIdiculous. RiDICulous. RIDICUlous.RIDIcuLOUS-and then.... BAM! 
It got stuck in my head.
And it just kept going on this circle, repeating the many different ways I'd figured out to pronounce it.
It just kept going and going and going and going....
and I couldn't turn it off.

Like a compulsion. Like my brain just couldn't, wouldn't stop. So it didn't.
Like there was nothing in the world that could have made it go away.

I covered my head, hummed, listened to the radio, listened to old CD's... I shut my eyes, held them tight, tighter. But nothing worked. That stupid word just kept going and going through my head.

Now I hate the word.
It sounds painful and repetitive to me.
And it shows I have absolutely no control over what I think about.

So, I guess you could say, if I was thinking about a certain event, or night... I guess you could say it might do the same thing as that word.
And I guess you could say it's a little scary.

See the lightning in your eyes

So I've been thinking.
Thinking, that why the fuck does IT get to dictate my life?
and
Why is it so fixed, that I'm stuck in that same rut
as every
other
person?

I've been thinking, and.
I don't like the way things are.

I don't like feeling like shit everytime someone says they like my shirt.
I don't like wondering if they actually mean it, or if they're just saying it to make fun of me.
I don't like questioning every word that comes out of someone's mouth.
I don't like choking, because I'm crying, but I'm not really crying.

No, I don't like it. I don't like any of it.

I don't like that hollow feeling. The feeling of being empty.
The one that echoes throughout your thoughts, repeating the same words, over and over again...
"Your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault..." 


I no longer wish to identify with this.

So now it's gone.
Poof.

Out of my life.
Out of my thoughts.
Out of my circle.

I disown it.
Alienate it.

It's gonegonegone! and it can't come back.

All right. So that's it, then.

Anxiety

Nova and Ellie sit back to back, typing away on the computers in front of them. Nova watches her screen light up, typing in her password and username.
"Fucking hate this," she mumbles. "Fucking stupid ass computer doesn't load."
Ellie laughs from behind her, wondering if Nova realizes that teachers always hear her swearing.

Melanie walks in the door just near their computers and sits down on a chair near them.
"I don't have to go to school tomorrow," she gloats.
Nova looks at Melanie, in wonderment.
"Lucky," she sighs.
"Yeah. But why not?" Ellie gives up on getting her computer to load and turns her body towards Melanie.
"Because I'm going to the doctor with my mom to pick up anxiety pills." She smiles.

"Anxiety pills are highly addictive," Nova says bitterly, jealous that, Melanie, someone who has barely any anxiety at all, should be allowed pills to make it go away.
"I don't mind," Melanie laughs, hinting.
'Because you're a bitch-ass druggie,' Nova thinks. She stays silent, though, because that's who she is.
"Ha."
Nova watches Melanie, staring glumly at her yellow sweater. It's thick, and looks like it would be nice to lay on. She decides that if she's ever stuck in the woods, she'd like to have that sweater to cry into.

"Yeah." Melanie stands up and walks away.

Once she's out of earshot, Ellie grumbles.
"She wouldn't be flaunting her anxiety if she had it," she says.
Nova nods. She wants to say that she's got really bad anxiety,
that sometimes she can't even make it to school
because
she just can't.
But instead she returns her attention back to her computer screen, waiting patiently for it to load.

'Maybe she's got bad anxiety too,' Nova plays with the idea.
'Maybe.'

Character analysis: Part 1

"How would you feel if your school decided to change?" asked MissTeacher.
Nova listened intently, willing her stomach to stop screaming.
"The idea of making your own schedules. How would you feel about that?"
A boy in the back of the class, Raphael, raised his hand.
"I think I'd do well in that environment," he said. "I could get my work done in my own time and sleep in late."
MissTeacher smiled, disappointed, and tried to steer his thoughts in the right direction.
"But what about planning out your whole year? Could you look at a calender, look at the curriculum, and know exactly how you were going to complete all of it, and when?"
Raphael shrugged, not so sure now.
"And what about if you made all your choices at home? If you chose when and what you ate, all the time?"
Nova looked around, but no one raised their hands.
'I wouldn't eat anything at all,' Nova thought to herself. 'I would be pretty.'

"I mean, when I was your ages, I would have had pancakes, pizza and ice cream, all the time."
Nova smiled, but said nothing.
"That wouldn't be very healthy at all, would it?"

The class was silent, but thinking.
MissTeacher stopped talking to let them think.

When the bell rang, Nova stood up and slung her bag over one shoulder. Ellie and Mara grabbed their bags and headed for their lockers, walking in a small group.
"Oh god, my stomach's such an ass," Mara complained.
Ellie laughed. "Mine too. It wouldn't stop grumbling the entire lesson," she said, then made a noise, close to what it sounded like.
Nova fell into step with them and smiled.
'One out of three girls self-harm. One out of three girls self-harm.'

"You going out for lunch?" Nova asked Ellie.
Ellie shrugged. "I'm not really eating today."
"Oh." Nova wondered if every girl in their group really did schedule their own eating, and if they did it the same way she did.
"Hey, but I'll go out with you if you're going to Bankers St." Ellie stopped talking and stared at Nova's hair intently.
"Wait," she said, reaching up. "You've got a fluff in your hair."
Nova smiled, knowing it only reflected inside herself. Like a light shining into her, but showing darkness to all the other people around her.
"Thanks," Nova laughed.
"And yeah. I'm probably going to just head for the posts, though. Just hang there." Ellie nodded, still staring at Nova's hair.
"All right, I'll come with you." But Ellie wasn't thinking about lunch. She was thinking about Nova.
Nova has such pretty hair, down to her shoulders in small, dark-brown waves. Ellie was envious. Always paying attention to it. Her own hair mirrored her mothers. Dirty blond, and flat. Not very exciting.
But Nova's gave her an hair of mystery.
She wondered what Nova was thinking about, this very moment, but silenced her thoughts when Mara walked up and put her arms on Ellie's shoulders.
"Bugger. I really hate Science. It's boring as shit," Mara exclaimed. "We should do something more exciting, like, watching grass grow, or something."
Ellie nodded, smiling, pretending to be as exasperated as Mara. But she almost liked science. It was informative, sometimes. And their teacher wasn't particularly bad at teaching, so.
"Right, well I'm heading out," Nova said suddenly, zoning back into the world.
"Me too," Ellie stated, affirmatively.
"You guys going to the posts?" Mara asked, applying some chap-stick in her locker mirror.
"Yeah," Ellie said.
"Mind if I join you?"
Nova smiled and closed Mara's locker. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

I'll wait.

Hey, love. I promise you I'll be waiting for you
when you decide to find me.
With my bags already packed,
and my luggage right behind me.
Love, my dear,
I'll have the car all tuned up,
my money in my wallet.
There's no way we'll mess this up.
I promise the road will stretch out in front of us,
I promise the silence won't last.
Love, babe. I swear,
everything will be okay.
I promise you,
there won't be anything left to bare.
And the stars will all surround us,
dusty in the sky.
And the space that's all around us,
it'll all be just fine.

Love, my girl.
I've got my maps and charts
behind me.
And the world,
all this,
it's waiting for you to find me.

Grab your life
and hold on tight.
We're flying forward,
straight through the night.
We're blasting music,
the noise too high.
It's perfect, lovely, free-wing.
We'll be together when the time is right.

Dance class

Today, I was swept off my feet.

I didn't he think could carry me. But somehow, he lifted me with ease and wouldn't put me down.

He argued it was part of the balance part of dance.
Balance, but I wasn't dancing with his group.

Hm.

Don't go blind on me.

It's a metaphor, and you have to figure it out. 

I'm not going to tell you,

again

and again

what it means because,

you should really

already

know.