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.