I've been trying to write this for a long time. Each time I get a couple of sentences in I erase everything and pretend that nothings wrong. That I don't have a million and one things eating away at me.
I failed my Spanish class. I'm 99 percent sure I failed my Critical Issues in the Media class. Never before in my student career has such a thing happened, math courses are the one exception. I'll take responsibility for failing them because it is my fault and to say otherwise would make me a coward. I need to get my act together and now. If I can't make it in college how in the hell am I going to survive the real world? I don't want to be one of those 40-somethings living with her parents because she can't take care of herself or function on a normal level within society.
My twenty-second birthday is coming up and at first I was excited about the prospect of spending it with friends and family but now it's just making me realize that I'm in the same place this year that I have been for the past several years. Sure, I live on my own but in the big picture of life that doesn't mean so much. I don't smoke, do drugs and rarely drink. We won't even begin to discuss my lack of a romantic life. Everybody I know is either married or has kids. I don't want either right away but I'm sick of being alone. I'm afraid that it'll be that way forever though and it kills me.
Twenty years, it's breaking you down
now that you understand there's no one around
Take a breath, just take a seat
you're falling apart and tearing at the seams
Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why
Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright
Everyday I wake up and pretend that I'm okay. That life is wonderful and I'm happy. Sometimes I am happy. Life's a beautiful thing. Lately, I just feel overwhelmed. I d much better when I have stuff that needs to get done and people that are depending on me and now that school's out for summer and Argonaut is almost at a stand still I have no responsibility. Just time to think.
And I think to much.
No, really. I do. How do you turn off your mind? Can you teach me, please? Maybe then I wouldn't think about why my body hates me so much and if I'll ever get to be off of these antibiotics. I'm not good at remembering to take them and they make the rest of me feel like hell anyway.
Maybe I could run away and reinvent myself and a new life somewhere far away from here. Maybe then I wouldn't think so much.
Heaven forbid, I end up alone.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Midnight (Revision)
She’s curled up in bed with pint-sized
preschool princesses and their pageants
on the television. Wednesday’s don’t hold
much excitement for the new kid in town.
The music coming from her phone tells her
to hold out hope. The night’s not over yet.
‘Be awake in an hour.’ Four little words
turn her into a maniac. The dishes are done
and the laundry put away in record time. She slides
out of pajamas and into casual chic clothing.
Headlights flicker into the window. As quick as
the lights appear, they’re gone again. John, Paul, George
and Ringo tell her to open the door. The smell of Taco
Bell on his skin and the moonlight in his eyes greet her.
Making small talk as if that’s the way they’ve always done things
tells her that he’s found his very own princess, a queen really,
who dances to the beat of the same restless dream and that being the new
kid in town makes stuffing newspapers into envelopes on a sweltering
Thursday afternoon makes her feel useful. Making small talk like they do
a sad attempt at filling an appetite that should no longer be there.
‘I should go now’ breaks her every time. He stays a few minutes longer
anyway. The warmth that between their skin and the soft whispers
into ears remind them of the past. With a kiss on the forehead and arms
lingering around her waist a touch too long, he walks out the door.
Folding newspapers and stuffing envelopes keeps her mind busy until
the phone rings. His name on the caller ID takes her back but she answers
anyway. She probably always will. Making small talk won’t change anything.
Is she okay? He already knows she’s not but he still asks. They say goodbye
and go on with their lives. Him, with the girl of his dreams and the ability to
let the past be and her left to pick up the pieces. Until next time.
preschool princesses and their pageants
on the television. Wednesday’s don’t hold
much excitement for the new kid in town.
The music coming from her phone tells her
to hold out hope. The night’s not over yet.
‘Be awake in an hour.’ Four little words
turn her into a maniac. The dishes are done
and the laundry put away in record time. She slides
out of pajamas and into casual chic clothing.
Headlights flicker into the window. As quick as
the lights appear, they’re gone again. John, Paul, George
and Ringo tell her to open the door. The smell of Taco
Bell on his skin and the moonlight in his eyes greet her.
Making small talk as if that’s the way they’ve always done things
tells her that he’s found his very own princess, a queen really,
who dances to the beat of the same restless dream and that being the new
kid in town makes stuffing newspapers into envelopes on a sweltering
Thursday afternoon makes her feel useful. Making small talk like they do
a sad attempt at filling an appetite that should no longer be there.
‘I should go now’ breaks her every time. He stays a few minutes longer
anyway. The warmth that between their skin and the soft whispers
into ears remind them of the past. With a kiss on the forehead and arms
lingering around her waist a touch too long, he walks out the door.
Folding newspapers and stuffing envelopes keeps her mind busy until
the phone rings. His name on the caller ID takes her back but she answers
anyway. She probably always will. Making small talk won’t change anything.
Is she okay? He already knows she’s not but he still asks. They say goodbye
and go on with their lives. Him, with the girl of his dreams and the ability to
let the past be and her left to pick up the pieces. Until next time.
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