She was known for
her cracking-plaster skin.
and her off-kilter rhymes.
And her fingers bent from writing
would grasp at any eyelash wish
that she could find.
Her tear-stained eyes
were hidden in dog-eared pages
of smudged scrawled manuscripts
that no one else would hear about.
And her ink-stained hands
searched for all the words
she could never say out loud.
She thought he could fix her
but she was breaking at the seams.
And when her self-induced nightmares
got murderous with her ripping core
all he could was scream.
They called her unfixable
and she guessed they were right.
And the cracks could only deepen,
on chipping faded plaster.
She thought he could help
[but he only broke her faster.]
July 22, 2011
Entropy
They told us
we were entropy, love.
Only beautiful in times
of unpredictable chaos.
And maybe,
just maybe,
chaos was all it ever was.
Because we both know
everything dissolves
back into disorder.
The world is most real
only in moments of destruction.
And darling, we were
never the exception.
we were entropy, love.
Only beautiful in times
of unpredictable chaos.
And maybe,
just maybe,
chaos was all it ever was.
Because we both know
everything dissolves
back into disorder.
The world is most real
only in moments of destruction.
And darling, we were
never the exception.
July 18, 2011
Starlight
Author's Note: Haven't written this kind of poem in forever. @_@ Anyway. So yeah. XD First rhyming poem in...so long.
///
We used to dance
along the streets at night
and I remember how
you'd hold me in your arms
under the brilliant starlight.
And you knew you had a smile
that put every star to shame
And so you spun me along
and we glided those roads
and your voice played
[deceptive] melodies with my name.
And we defied the dreams
that drifted in the velvet dark
and you easily made me believe
in wishes made on falling stars.
We moved like shadows,
and we had raced against the time
and darling, I felt we could beat it
when your hand was still in mine.
We ran until we couldn't breathe,
and our steps started to collide.
The universe' rules didn't matter
and we did all we could.
And darling, it's just disappointing
how you never lived up
to anything I thought you would.
And it lasted until we watched
with cold fingers and blank eyes
the sunrise they all loved so much
You had told me we could beat time
and I guess believed you,
without really knowing why.
Sunlight never quite compared
to the glimmers of wishes and promises
that were always more than just flame.
And I had tried to hold on
until the last of that slowly breaking day.
But flames can't stay blazing
and moondust only lasts so long.
We thought we could break every rule
but I guess the universe proved us wrong.
***
[They used to say
we were an unlikely miracle
but darling they didn't understand
that under this starlight
anything could have looked beautiful.]
///
We used to dance
along the streets at night
and I remember how
you'd hold me in your arms
under the brilliant starlight.
And you knew you had a smile
that put every star to shame
And so you spun me along
and we glided those roads
and your voice played
[deceptive] melodies with my name.
And we defied the dreams
that drifted in the velvet dark
and you easily made me believe
in wishes made on falling stars.
We moved like shadows,
and we had raced against the time
and darling, I felt we could beat it
when your hand was still in mine.
We ran until we couldn't breathe,
and our steps started to collide.
The universe' rules didn't matter
and we did all we could.
And darling, it's just disappointing
how you never lived up
to anything I thought you would.
And it lasted until we watched
with cold fingers and blank eyes
the sunrise they all loved so much
You had told me we could beat time
and I guess believed you,
without really knowing why.
Sunlight never quite compared
to the glimmers of wishes and promises
that were always more than just flame.
And I had tried to hold on
until the last of that slowly breaking day.
But flames can't stay blazing
and moondust only lasts so long.
We thought we could break every rule
but I guess the universe proved us wrong.
***
[They used to say
we were an unlikely miracle
but darling they didn't understand
that under this starlight
anything could have looked beautiful.]
June 26, 2011
What Writers Hate About "Writers"
Truths About Writing:
1. Golden Rule: WRITE TO EXPRESS, NOT TO IMPRESS. If you don't know the difference, learn the difference.
2. There are no shortcuts to improving your vocabulary and writing style: using your dictionary and thesaurus just to sound "smarter" is very bad, sloppy, and lazy writing. Read. A lot. That's the best way to develop your writing naturally.
3. Learn to take criticism. You will never develop if you cry whenever someone insults your work. Writing has so much rejection, so many things to improve on, you will never be able to please everyone. There is ALSO a difference between "You suck." and "Your work sucks." If you can't tell the difference, you can't be a writer.
4. If you're writing for the money or fame, you're an idiot.
5. If you're purposely writing in the hopes that people will quote some of the things you say, your writing style will sound disgusting, and you are an idiot.
6. YOUR CHARACTERS ARE ALIVE. Never think otherwise. They are NOT your puppets, you are NOT a god. Your world breathes, and you have to let it run away if it wants to. If you don't give your writing freedom, it will remain a cardboard cutout. No matter how pretty it is, no matter how good the quality of the cardboard is, if you don't let it live, it will always be cardboard.
7. There actually ARE words you shouldn't use in your writing, because they really do ruin the mood. Like "zestful". Unless you are mocking anything, please do not use words like "zestful" in your prose, and ESPECIALLY not in your poetry. Also, if you say "she smiled with glee" instead of "she smiled", it makes it sound worse, because now we're imagining a very creepy, wide grin instead a natural, happy smile.
8. Speaking of poetry, rhyme WELL. Do not rhyme like you're trying to make a poem for preschoolers unless you want it to sound like that. "The mouse went up the clock, and it went tick-tock" or "That girl so fair, I love her hair!" is more common a disease than you might think. Be careful you're not doing it.
9. ["Never say 'John stopped long enough to perform an act of excretion' when you mean 'John stopped long enough to take a shit.'" -Stephen King.] When you do that, you don't sound more poetic, or intelligent. You sound like a douchebag.
10. If you think that adding dozens upon dozens of adjectives and adverbs in your writing and describing every tiny detail makes you sound better: learn about purple prose, you noob.
1. Golden Rule: WRITE TO EXPRESS, NOT TO IMPRESS. If you don't know the difference, learn the difference.
2. There are no shortcuts to improving your vocabulary and writing style: using your dictionary and thesaurus just to sound "smarter" is very bad, sloppy, and lazy writing. Read. A lot. That's the best way to develop your writing naturally.
3. Learn to take criticism. You will never develop if you cry whenever someone insults your work. Writing has so much rejection, so many things to improve on, you will never be able to please everyone. There is ALSO a difference between "You suck." and "Your work sucks." If you can't tell the difference, you can't be a writer.
4. If you're writing for the money or fame, you're an idiot.
5. If you're purposely writing in the hopes that people will quote some of the things you say, your writing style will sound disgusting, and you are an idiot.
6. YOUR CHARACTERS ARE ALIVE. Never think otherwise. They are NOT your puppets, you are NOT a god. Your world breathes, and you have to let it run away if it wants to. If you don't give your writing freedom, it will remain a cardboard cutout. No matter how pretty it is, no matter how good the quality of the cardboard is, if you don't let it live, it will always be cardboard.
7. There actually ARE words you shouldn't use in your writing, because they really do ruin the mood. Like "zestful". Unless you are mocking anything, please do not use words like "zestful" in your prose, and ESPECIALLY not in your poetry. Also, if you say "she smiled with glee" instead of "she smiled", it makes it sound worse, because now we're imagining a very creepy, wide grin instead a natural, happy smile.
8. Speaking of poetry, rhyme WELL. Do not rhyme like you're trying to make a poem for preschoolers unless you want it to sound like that. "The mouse went up the clock, and it went tick-tock" or "That girl so fair, I love her hair!" is more common a disease than you might think. Be careful you're not doing it.
9. ["Never say 'John stopped long enough to perform an act of excretion' when you mean 'John stopped long enough to take a shit.'" -Stephen King.] When you do that, you don't sound more poetic, or intelligent. You sound like a douchebag.
10. If you think that adding dozens upon dozens of adjectives and adverbs in your writing and describing every tiny detail makes you sound better: learn about purple prose, you noob.
June 20, 2011
Seven
Author's Note: Written last May 4.
///
I've always hated your temper,
and your quick-to-die passion.
How you gave up so easily,
as quickly as you angered.
You always take what you want,
without ever thinking.
Don't share what you have,
and never think
you quite compare.
Never good enough.
Because you always wanted
[to be the best.]
Fall in [love] far too easily
for no real reason.
Because it makes you feel good
when you get alone
[especially when] it comes
with no strings to burn.
But then you always hated
how they were never
[obssessed] with you,
didn't you?
So you'd cry away the pain
and stuff yourself
with [endless] melted pints
of sickening ice cream.
///
You were always violent.
And always believed
few things were ever worth
your time or effort.
And you wanted everything
the [world] could offer.
Because you believed
you were worth it.
But then you were always
passionate, even for that short time.
Because you were unbearably unpatient.
And you always needed someone
to make you feel amazing
and special
and [wanted]
You were irrational
and never made any sense.
Impulsive and possessive.
And always,
always
always
hating the people
[better than you]
You were a mess
of seven:
frustrating,
deadly,
and [idiotic]
flaws.
But I always adored
your intensity
and your need to be best.
And the only thing you really wanted
out of all your [temporary] dolls
was the feeling of being loved.
Because you always knew
your [almost-fatal] conditions.
That made it impossible
to love someone like you
But I admit I've always
fallen for that pride of yours.
You thought you deserved the best.
And maybe it felt good
to know you thought
that you deserved [me]
///
I've always hated your temper,
and your quick-to-die passion.
How you gave up so easily,
as quickly as you angered.
You always take what you want,
without ever thinking.
Don't share what you have,
and never think
you quite compare.
Never good enough.
Because you always wanted
[to be the best.]
Fall in [love] far too easily
for no real reason.
Because it makes you feel good
when you get alone
[especially when] it comes
with no strings to burn.
But then you always hated
how they were never
[obssessed] with you,
didn't you?
So you'd cry away the pain
and stuff yourself
with [endless] melted pints
of sickening ice cream.
///
You were always violent.
And always believed
few things were ever worth
your time or effort.
And you wanted everything
the [world] could offer.
Because you believed
you were worth it.
But then you were always
passionate, even for that short time.
Because you were unbearably unpatient.
And you always needed someone
to make you feel amazing
and special
and [wanted]
You were irrational
and never made any sense.
Impulsive and possessive.
And always,
always
always
hating the people
[better than you]
You were a mess
of seven:
frustrating,
deadly,
and [idiotic]
flaws.
But I always adored
your intensity
and your need to be best.
And the only thing you really wanted
out of all your [temporary] dolls
was the feeling of being loved.
Because you always knew
your [almost-fatal] conditions.
That made it impossible
to love someone like you
But I admit I've always
fallen for that pride of yours.
You thought you deserved the best.
And maybe it felt good
to know you thought
that you deserved [me]
Crumbling
Author's Note: Written last May 3.
///
It's been so long
since the last time
I looked in your eyes
and just melted.
I've forgotten how
to be weak-kneed
when you talked to me.
But I was always the one
to understand your perfectly
zig-zagged philosphy.
And you always said
no one else could love
and be quite as addicted
to the bittersweet taste
of black coffee
that your kisses
would always be.
And you were the only one
I knew that could ever
tolerate the lies
I built around myself.
And still tell me
I was beautiful-amazing.
In that rushed, quick breath
in between the crashes of our lips.
Because we both knew
we were falling apart.
We were both fragile
from the very beginning.
And when people started
to worry, when the cracks
started to show
We both told them
to leave it alone
[We could handle it ourselves.]
And we were always too proud
to admit that we couldn't.
And everyone watched
as we both failed
to hold ourselves
together.
And we lost all the pieces
that once kept us
a wonder
It lost its beauty
and its glittering promises.
As we slowly hurt ourselves
trying to put the fragments back.
Until we couldn't remember
why we bothered trying
to save the [crumbled] ruins
of [us.]
///
It's been so long
since the last time
I looked in your eyes
and just melted.
I've forgotten how
to be weak-kneed
when you talked to me.
But I was always the one
to understand your perfectly
zig-zagged philosphy.
And you always said
no one else could love
and be quite as addicted
to the bittersweet taste
of black coffee
that your kisses
would always be.
And you were the only one
I knew that could ever
tolerate the lies
I built around myself.
And still tell me
I was beautiful-amazing.
In that rushed, quick breath
in between the crashes of our lips.
Because we both knew
we were falling apart.
We were both fragile
from the very beginning.
And when people started
to worry, when the cracks
started to show
We both told them
to leave it alone
[We could handle it ourselves.]
And we were always too proud
to admit that we couldn't.
And everyone watched
as we both failed
to hold ourselves
together.
And we lost all the pieces
that once kept us
a wonder
It lost its beauty
and its glittering promises.
As we slowly hurt ourselves
trying to put the fragments back.
Until we couldn't remember
why we bothered trying
to save the [crumbled] ruins
of [us.]
Standards
Author's Note: Written last May 3. Seriously, you have better luck being updated with my writing on my deviantart. *points to link in sidebar*
///
It always hurt,how you could never
seem to get over that laziness.
Or make your short-lived resolve
last longer.
Even for me.
But I guess
it's something
that I didn't want
to demand you to change.
And I can't say I'm fine
whenever you failed again
to keep another promise.
And when your insufferability
becomes too much to handle,
sometimes I wish
you'd be a lot less [you]
I've always had my standards.
And I admit you never
really [met] them.
Because if someone
had told me
you'd be the one back then.
I'd have laughed.
But you proved me wrong
with your eyes [burning]
with borderline madness.
And it drew me in
with your jigsaw puzzle
of pride and insecurity,
of logic and emotion.
Because you were always more
than just my standards, love.
You picked them up
and threw them at my face.
Looked back with your
defiant stubborness
and kissed away
the doubt.
Because it's [you]
I chose, love.
Not the mirrored ideas
of whatever I might have wanted
[you] to be.
It's [you] and not
whatever the standards
told you what you should have been.
And whenever I thought to myself
I couldn't handle it,
I always told myself,
I wouldn't want [you] to change.
Because even when
I tried to find
a million different reasons
to hate you
to leave you
and to be ashamed of you.
There'd always be
a [bajillion] more reasons
not to.
[Always.]
///
It always hurt,how you could never
seem to get over that laziness.
Or make your short-lived resolve
last longer.
Even for me.
But I guess
it's something
that I didn't want
to demand you to change.
And I can't say I'm fine
whenever you failed again
to keep another promise.
And when your insufferability
becomes too much to handle,
sometimes I wish
you'd be a lot less [you]
I've always had my standards.
And I admit you never
really [met] them.
Because if someone
had told me
you'd be the one back then.
I'd have laughed.
But you proved me wrong
with your eyes [burning]
with borderline madness.
And it drew me in
with your jigsaw puzzle
of pride and insecurity,
of logic and emotion.
Because you were always more
than just my standards, love.
You picked them up
and threw them at my face.
Looked back with your
defiant stubborness
and kissed away
the doubt.
Because it's [you]
I chose, love.
Not the mirrored ideas
of whatever I might have wanted
[you] to be.
It's [you] and not
whatever the standards
told you what you should have been.
And whenever I thought to myself
I couldn't handle it,
I always told myself,
I wouldn't want [you] to change.
Because even when
I tried to find
a million different reasons
to hate you
to leave you
and to be ashamed of you.
There'd always be
a [bajillion] more reasons
not to.
[Always.]
May 31, 2011
Quick Summary of Summer '11
Hello, all. This is just a little summer tribute thing for myself, so that I can never forget the greatest summer of my life so far.
A special shout-out to those who made this summer amazing:
DUMDUM/TEDDY
LYIRE/PADFOOT/MOWGLI
My team.
-Including the graduated seniors and the awesome newbies. :)
Fun memories of this year's summer:
-IDeA 3
-->Fine, we didn't break, and no MC team made it to Grands, but still. First, thank you to Nikki, who was undoubtedly one of the most fun people to prep with ever. :D Team-On and Pumbaa! Hakuna Matataaaaa~ And singing Maroon 5 songs all throughout the first day of the tournament was great. Not to mention our epic Legendary-themed shirts, and the most fun prep time I've ever had so far during the third round where we had given up because we had nothing to lose, and then got the best scores that day.
-->And then the second day was mostly just spent with my Dumdum, watching Rugrats on his laptop and playing DND with him and Nikki. XD
-Briefing/advertising for tryouts
-->It felt really great, knowing there were so many people interested in trying out. It felt good to know that that many people seemed genuinely interested in joining, because of the promoting we did. XD It made me realize how awesome we sounded "on paper." 8D
-IDeA Grands.
-->Brought the whole lot of newbies to let them watch the debates! Gave lectures, and spent more time with my dumdum. XD Then played Lazer tag!
-Team Bonding at Greenbelt, KARAOKE!
-->Started out with training at MC, then they kicked us out. :/ =)) So we debated outside by the emo corner, then left for Greenbelt. Dumdum was with us too. XD KARAOKE WAS SO FUN. We ended it by all singing Build Me Up Buttercup while dancing.
-SLEEPOVER WITH LYIRE.
-->Epic! Played Little Big Planet, watched FRIENDS, watched House, went on Facebook and laughed at people we used to hate/still hate/used to be friends with but now hate/and other stuff. Made snarky comments, laughed a lot, and had the most fun confe ever with my dumdum and Peeta.
-Date with Dumdum!
-->We fail at looking for cabs. =)) Went to Trinoma~ Played at the arcade! I fail at shooting games. D: We looked through toystores, yay. XD Then we watched Source Code. cx Then had dinner. Yaaay.
-Double Date!
-->Met at McDo again. I forgot why, but we were laughing really hard walking towards the car. =)) Then we picked on Peeta during the car ride to greenhills. Then we ate at Burgoo. XD I think the waiters/waitresses were staring at us because we were being so hyper and retarded. =)) We went around Hobbes and Landes and Fully Booked~ Then we watched Thor! It was alright. XD We played lazer tag! We beat the really loud annoying group of guys. We were only 4, and we were paired with 3 kids. =)))) I was last though. I suck. D:
-Voice Lessons
-->I loved voice lessons. XD They were really tiring because of that exercise thing, but I had missed singing. :) I sang Journey to the Past for my recital! People at the recital were really friendly.
-Review
-->I hated review, but making random commentary about everything with Paige was pretty okay, I guess. XD
-Summer Training
-->Great mix of productive and awesome. :D
-FAST FORWARD! WON WITH DUMDUM!
-->I dunno. Just. Teehee. c: Undoubtedly the best tournament of my life.
-Gimmick with Pandy/Mowgli/Herc!
-->Watched X-Men: First Class, looked around Greenhills for a random gray shirt(=))), ate at CPK, and kept laughing, awesome car rides, and laser tag! Stupid campers. :| =)))) Damn, we kept laughing until our stomachs hurt and we couldn't breathe. I love these people to death. XD
A special shout-out to those who made this summer amazing:
DUMDUM/TEDDY
LYIRE/PADFOOT/MOWGLI
My team.
-Including the graduated seniors and the awesome newbies. :)
Fun memories of this year's summer:
-IDeA 3
-->Fine, we didn't break, and no MC team made it to Grands, but still. First, thank you to Nikki, who was undoubtedly one of the most fun people to prep with ever. :D Team-On and Pumbaa! Hakuna Matataaaaa~ And singing Maroon 5 songs all throughout the first day of the tournament was great. Not to mention our epic Legendary-themed shirts, and the most fun prep time I've ever had so far during the third round where we had given up because we had nothing to lose, and then got the best scores that day.
-->And then the second day was mostly just spent with my Dumdum, watching Rugrats on his laptop and playing DND with him and Nikki. XD
-Briefing/advertising for tryouts
-->It felt really great, knowing there were so many people interested in trying out. It felt good to know that that many people seemed genuinely interested in joining, because of the promoting we did. XD It made me realize how awesome we sounded "on paper." 8D
-IDeA Grands.
-->Brought the whole lot of newbies to let them watch the debates! Gave lectures, and spent more time with my dumdum. XD Then played Lazer tag!
-Team Bonding at Greenbelt, KARAOKE!
-->Started out with training at MC, then they kicked us out. :/ =)) So we debated outside by the emo corner, then left for Greenbelt. Dumdum was with us too. XD KARAOKE WAS SO FUN. We ended it by all singing Build Me Up Buttercup while dancing.
-SLEEPOVER WITH LYIRE.
-->Epic! Played Little Big Planet, watched FRIENDS, watched House, went on Facebook and laughed at people we used to hate/still hate/used to be friends with but now hate/and other stuff. Made snarky comments, laughed a lot, and had the most fun confe ever with my dumdum and Peeta.
-Date with Dumdum!
-->We fail at looking for cabs. =)) Went to Trinoma~ Played at the arcade! I fail at shooting games. D: We looked through toystores, yay. XD Then we watched Source Code. cx Then had dinner. Yaaay.
-Double Date!
-->Met at McDo again. I forgot why, but we were laughing really hard walking towards the car. =)) Then we picked on Peeta during the car ride to greenhills. Then we ate at Burgoo. XD I think the waiters/waitresses were staring at us because we were being so hyper and retarded. =)) We went around Hobbes and Landes and Fully Booked~ Then we watched Thor! It was alright. XD We played lazer tag! We beat the really loud annoying group of guys. We were only 4, and we were paired with 3 kids. =)))) I was last though. I suck. D:
-Voice Lessons
-->I loved voice lessons. XD They were really tiring because of that exercise thing, but I had missed singing. :) I sang Journey to the Past for my recital! People at the recital were really friendly.
-Review
-->I hated review, but making random commentary about everything with Paige was pretty okay, I guess. XD
-Summer Training
-->Great mix of productive and awesome. :D
-FAST FORWARD! WON WITH DUMDUM!
-->I dunno. Just. Teehee. c: Undoubtedly the best tournament of my life.
-Gimmick with Pandy/Mowgli/Herc!
-->Watched X-Men: First Class, looked around Greenhills for a random gray shirt(=))), ate at CPK, and kept laughing, awesome car rides, and laser tag! Stupid campers. :| =)))) Damn, we kept laughing until our stomachs hurt and we couldn't breathe. I love these people to death. XD
May 8, 2011
Fifteen Things
I saw this on theraspberryscribbler's blog. You should check her out, she's awesome. XD But anyway. I'm supposed to write ten things about myself. I just decided to write 15, instead of 10! XD
And I decided to use this blog to...let out some stuff that are REALLY about me. Not just random, trivial facts. I just had the need to be brutally honest with myself.
///
1. I'm manipulative.
--I see most people as a means to an end. I don't backstab. But most likely? I probably don't have much loyalty towards you. Most likely, I view you more as a chess piece than a friend. Sometimes, I view people's drama as a fascinating way to observe them, or sometimes I just get plain amusement out of their drama. Strangely? I give writing advice to people by telling them to view their characters as real people living life instead of puppets for a puppet show. I think of my characters in stories as real people. I view most real people as puppets.
2. I only genuinely care about 5 people.
--Interestingly enough, none of those 5 are in my family. But believe me, I love those 5 people to death. Wondering who they are? Too bad, I don't plan on posting that list here. Fine, I care about some of the people who aren't in that list of 5. But I don't know. I only care to an extremely limited extent. Fine, I can care about some people more than a whole lot of other people, but eh.
3. I'm cynical.
--I don't believe in the natural goodness of people. I believe people are disgusting and stupid creatures. I think most people are horrible and don't give a shit about others. When people ask me what's wrong, I take it as a sign of curiosity instead of concern. My experiences have made me believe that.
4. I despise idiots and naive people.
--They sicken me. I can't stand incompetence, either. I also hate shallow people who do nothing but go by their lives, never wondering about anything else except themselves. I hate people who don't talk about anything except things that involve THEM. I want to talk about life, and its mysteries. I want to talk about love and what it means. I wanna talk about whether or not God exists. I want to ask you questions and I want an answer that you actually believe in, or at least an attempt at an answer. I hate it when people go; "Wow, you're too deep, I don't really care." Shut up. If you never wondered about anything else besides your petty little life, I dislike you.
5. My individuality matters to me.
--I need to be who I am. I need people to understand that's important that I remain me, and therefore hate being compared. I also hate being told I should be something.I'm me. If you hate it, I honestly don't give a fuck.
6. I hate people. In general.
--I'm anti-social. Not because I'm shy. But mostly because I either don't give a shit to get to know people or find them far too irritating. Also, as stated, I'm cynical. It'll take me forever and a shit load of thinking before I even CONSIDER putting ANY amount of trust in anyone.
7. I'm far too arrogant for my own good.
--But in all honesty? Most of the time I think my arrogance is justified. But this leads me to having high standards of people. I believe I deserve the best, so I wouldn't settle for anything less than I think I deserve. I'm picky with what writing I like, I'm picky with my friends, and I'm picky when it comes to love. It'll take me months of thinking and considering before I finally admit to myself that I'm in love with someone.
8. I don't know what I want in life. I don't have a goal.
--Not really. But personally, I think those people that care so goddamn much about their grades and talk about how it's the key to success? I find them pathetic. Life is worth so much more than letters on a card claiming to tell you how smart you are. People with pathetic goals that trap them in their own selfish little bubbles of personal gain sicken me.
9. People who don't understand what art is for are idiots.
--Therefore, I hate people who think writing is just a place for them to randomly put big words to impress people. Art should be kept pure for art, and people who write to impress or to make money...are disgusting. Art is important to me. Expressing is important to me. People who make money off of a butchery of an art form annoy me. That's honestly why I hate Twilight so much. Stephenie Meyer got money even though she wrote utter shit, and that left so many amazing writers left behind, because then less people could reach them. Less people could reach other writers' messages.
10. I believe there are two kinds of people in this world-interesting and generic.
--I'm drawn to people with distinct, strong personalities. People who change themselves to please others sicken me. People who only try to be normal are boring. People who don't strive for anything and don't care to know who they are...well, they can go fuck themselves and die in a hole. I also hate those people that can't handle fun, random, and playful conversations. I get hyper, and I can act like a kid. I can say the most random and nonsensical things, and if you can't keep up with me, boo. Yes, I want my friends to be able to talk to me about pirates and ninjas and cookies, then switch back to talk about serious, profound things. I'm like that. What I want from any of the friends I have is to accept it, and just go along with it.
11. It's difficult for me to move on.
--I cling to the past. I live in it, sometimes. It's what made me who I am. Some of the best things about my life are IN the past. I dwell on it when I hate the present. Change terrifies me because of that clinging. Goodbyes terrify me because of that clinging. I hardly ever believe in second chances because of what happened in the past.
12. I hardly ever let anyone in.
--I have multiple facades. Multiple masks. Very few people know who I really am. Because I think some people are too thick in the head to ever understand. That's why I only love people who are as complicated and twisted as me, and who are brave enough to admit they're fucked-up.
13. I dislike my family.
--I've honestly tried to love them. But sometimes they make it so hard. I can manage with my dad and my sister. But God. Sometimes I just wish I had a different mother. She's the reason I hate stupid people, because she's so annoying and thinks she's right even when it's clear she's not. She's one of the reasons I'm so damn proud, because of her lack of pride in me. I don't know. It's hard for me to explain just why I hate her. There are too many.
14. Sometimes I find reasons to hate myself.
--I don't know. Sometimes I honestly just feel like I'm a terrible person. And it makes me wonder how anybody could ever love me. Maybe that's why I'm so cynical. Maybe that's why I hate letting people in. Maybe that's why...when I find someone who DOES care about me, I'm terrified of ever losing them. But at the same time, I refuse to change myself just to know people can love me. I don't know. I'm a contradiction. We all are, aren't we?
15. I love God. Despite all that make me seem like such a bad person.
--The thing is, I just don't believe in organized religion. I love God, for all He is. I don't like the image of God that the Catholic Church is trying to forward. God loves everyone. FOR WHO THEY ARE. And as long as people can genuinely be sorry for intentionally causing pain to others, that's all God NEEDS. I HATE people who paint him out as someone who condemns homosexuality or something. I HATE people who try to shove religion down other people's throats and then preach about forgiveness and understanding. I hate how people can talk about acceptance and then condemn homosexuals and call people of other religions terrorists. Sometimes people use religion as a means for people to control others. Sometimes religion can be just as corrupt as politics. But honestly? It's just personal faith that leads you to become a better person. What's a sin? Being a homosexual? Masturbating? No. For me, sin is just basically anything that causes harm to other people. Does God like that? Fine, He doesn't. Does He hate you for always hurting people? No. And He never will.
///
That's it, I guess. :D
I honestly did this...to learn more about myself, I guess. And...I did. In some way.
And I decided to use this blog to...let out some stuff that are REALLY about me. Not just random, trivial facts. I just had the need to be brutally honest with myself.
///
1. I'm manipulative.
--I see most people as a means to an end. I don't backstab. But most likely? I probably don't have much loyalty towards you. Most likely, I view you more as a chess piece than a friend. Sometimes, I view people's drama as a fascinating way to observe them, or sometimes I just get plain amusement out of their drama. Strangely? I give writing advice to people by telling them to view their characters as real people living life instead of puppets for a puppet show. I think of my characters in stories as real people. I view most real people as puppets.
2. I only genuinely care about 5 people.
--Interestingly enough, none of those 5 are in my family. But believe me, I love those 5 people to death. Wondering who they are? Too bad, I don't plan on posting that list here. Fine, I care about some of the people who aren't in that list of 5. But I don't know. I only care to an extremely limited extent. Fine, I can care about some people more than a whole lot of other people, but eh.
3. I'm cynical.
--I don't believe in the natural goodness of people. I believe people are disgusting and stupid creatures. I think most people are horrible and don't give a shit about others. When people ask me what's wrong, I take it as a sign of curiosity instead of concern. My experiences have made me believe that.
4. I despise idiots and naive people.
--They sicken me. I can't stand incompetence, either. I also hate shallow people who do nothing but go by their lives, never wondering about anything else except themselves. I hate people who don't talk about anything except things that involve THEM. I want to talk about life, and its mysteries. I want to talk about love and what it means. I wanna talk about whether or not God exists. I want to ask you questions and I want an answer that you actually believe in, or at least an attempt at an answer. I hate it when people go; "Wow, you're too deep, I don't really care." Shut up. If you never wondered about anything else besides your petty little life, I dislike you.
5. My individuality matters to me.
--I need to be who I am. I need people to understand that's important that I remain me, and therefore hate being compared. I also hate being told I should be something.I'm me. If you hate it, I honestly don't give a fuck.
6. I hate people. In general.
--I'm anti-social. Not because I'm shy. But mostly because I either don't give a shit to get to know people or find them far too irritating. Also, as stated, I'm cynical. It'll take me forever and a shit load of thinking before I even CONSIDER putting ANY amount of trust in anyone.
7. I'm far too arrogant for my own good.
--But in all honesty? Most of the time I think my arrogance is justified. But this leads me to having high standards of people. I believe I deserve the best, so I wouldn't settle for anything less than I think I deserve. I'm picky with what writing I like, I'm picky with my friends, and I'm picky when it comes to love. It'll take me months of thinking and considering before I finally admit to myself that I'm in love with someone.
8. I don't know what I want in life. I don't have a goal.
--Not really. But personally, I think those people that care so goddamn much about their grades and talk about how it's the key to success? I find them pathetic. Life is worth so much more than letters on a card claiming to tell you how smart you are. People with pathetic goals that trap them in their own selfish little bubbles of personal gain sicken me.
9. People who don't understand what art is for are idiots.
--Therefore, I hate people who think writing is just a place for them to randomly put big words to impress people. Art should be kept pure for art, and people who write to impress or to make money...are disgusting. Art is important to me. Expressing is important to me. People who make money off of a butchery of an art form annoy me. That's honestly why I hate Twilight so much. Stephenie Meyer got money even though she wrote utter shit, and that left so many amazing writers left behind, because then less people could reach them. Less people could reach other writers' messages.
10. I believe there are two kinds of people in this world-interesting and generic.
--I'm drawn to people with distinct, strong personalities. People who change themselves to please others sicken me. People who only try to be normal are boring. People who don't strive for anything and don't care to know who they are...well, they can go fuck themselves and die in a hole. I also hate those people that can't handle fun, random, and playful conversations. I get hyper, and I can act like a kid. I can say the most random and nonsensical things, and if you can't keep up with me, boo. Yes, I want my friends to be able to talk to me about pirates and ninjas and cookies, then switch back to talk about serious, profound things. I'm like that. What I want from any of the friends I have is to accept it, and just go along with it.
11. It's difficult for me to move on.
--I cling to the past. I live in it, sometimes. It's what made me who I am. Some of the best things about my life are IN the past. I dwell on it when I hate the present. Change terrifies me because of that clinging. Goodbyes terrify me because of that clinging. I hardly ever believe in second chances because of what happened in the past.
12. I hardly ever let anyone in.
--I have multiple facades. Multiple masks. Very few people know who I really am. Because I think some people are too thick in the head to ever understand. That's why I only love people who are as complicated and twisted as me, and who are brave enough to admit they're fucked-up.
13. I dislike my family.
--I've honestly tried to love them. But sometimes they make it so hard. I can manage with my dad and my sister. But God. Sometimes I just wish I had a different mother. She's the reason I hate stupid people, because she's so annoying and thinks she's right even when it's clear she's not. She's one of the reasons I'm so damn proud, because of her lack of pride in me. I don't know. It's hard for me to explain just why I hate her. There are too many.
14. Sometimes I find reasons to hate myself.
--I don't know. Sometimes I honestly just feel like I'm a terrible person. And it makes me wonder how anybody could ever love me. Maybe that's why I'm so cynical. Maybe that's why I hate letting people in. Maybe that's why...when I find someone who DOES care about me, I'm terrified of ever losing them. But at the same time, I refuse to change myself just to know people can love me. I don't know. I'm a contradiction. We all are, aren't we?
15. I love God. Despite all that make me seem like such a bad person.
--The thing is, I just don't believe in organized religion. I love God, for all He is. I don't like the image of God that the Catholic Church is trying to forward. God loves everyone. FOR WHO THEY ARE. And as long as people can genuinely be sorry for intentionally causing pain to others, that's all God NEEDS. I HATE people who paint him out as someone who condemns homosexuality or something. I HATE people who try to shove religion down other people's throats and then preach about forgiveness and understanding. I hate how people can talk about acceptance and then condemn homosexuals and call people of other religions terrorists. Sometimes people use religion as a means for people to control others. Sometimes religion can be just as corrupt as politics. But honestly? It's just personal faith that leads you to become a better person. What's a sin? Being a homosexual? Masturbating? No. For me, sin is just basically anything that causes harm to other people. Does God like that? Fine, He doesn't. Does He hate you for always hurting people? No. And He never will.
///
That's it, I guess. :D
I honestly did this...to learn more about myself, I guess. And...I did. In some way.
April 17, 2011
Crazy Contradiction
Author's Note: So this is my most recent poem, both that I've written and that I like. XD Yaay. =)) This ends this batch of poems I'm copying from Deviantart to here. :D
///
We won't always be perfect
we're both too stubborn for that.
And we'll say stupid things,
and it will always be complicated.
But if this were simple,
I would been bored long before
all the problems happened.
You're insane, and unpredictable.
Insecure and full of pride.
Impulsive and far too rational.
And you're a crazy contradiction.
But I wouldn't have you
any other way.
And it's not just your hair,
and how it feels in my fingers.
Or your joking, childish way
of throwing tantrums.
It's not enough to say
that you're a mystery:
a complex mess of emotions,
of questions and [brilliance]
It isn't about the way
I'm addicted to your smell
or your [you-brand] of energy
and well-thought logic.
Your stubborn principles
and messed-up ways.
It's not just that angry, intense face
while playing all your killing games
or that proud, hidden smirk
while having all your mind games.
It was more about that smile
which you couldn't help but give
whenever we talked
about the next 20 years
of pillow forts and cookie jars
and hunting down the ones
who'd try to take the kids.
It wasn't just your complexity,
that had me thinking
for nights on end
just who you really were.
Or the late-night talks
about life and love and [all]
the world was around us.
It was more about the laughs,
about the ridiculous things
that happened everyday.
The simplest things
that made me forget
about everything else.
Just for a few hours.
And it wasn't just your snarky lines
that made fun of [everyone's] stupidity.
or your frequent, cheesy nonsense.
It was more than what anyone could see
about you, beyond me.
Because it was never just about
your pride, and indifference
and your [theoretical] niceness.
(But they were always
part of it, too.)
It was always about that way
you had of saying the right things,
when you tried the least.
And your sincerity
and genuine give-a-shit.
About people who didn't.
Because in a world of people
who live on just
that pride
or complexity
or brilliance
and a world full of people,
all with theoretical [niceness]:
You were always something more.
///
We won't always be perfect
we're both too stubborn for that.
And we'll say stupid things,
and it will always be complicated.
But if this were simple,
I would been bored long before
all the problems happened.
You're insane, and unpredictable.
Insecure and full of pride.
Impulsive and far too rational.
And you're a crazy contradiction.
But I wouldn't have you
any other way.
And it's not just your hair,
and how it feels in my fingers.
Or your joking, childish way
of throwing tantrums.
It's not enough to say
that you're a mystery:
a complex mess of emotions,
of questions and [brilliance]
It isn't about the way
I'm addicted to your smell
or your [you-brand] of energy
and well-thought logic.
Your stubborn principles
and messed-up ways.
It's not just that angry, intense face
while playing all your killing games
or that proud, hidden smirk
while having all your mind games.
It was more about that smile
which you couldn't help but give
whenever we talked
about the next 20 years
of pillow forts and cookie jars
and hunting down the ones
who'd try to take the kids.
It wasn't just your complexity,
that had me thinking
for nights on end
just who you really were.
Or the late-night talks
about life and love and [all]
the world was around us.
It was more about the laughs,
about the ridiculous things
that happened everyday.
The simplest things
that made me forget
about everything else.
Just for a few hours.
And it wasn't just your snarky lines
that made fun of [everyone's] stupidity.
or your frequent, cheesy nonsense.
It was more than what anyone could see
about you, beyond me.
Because it was never just about
your pride, and indifference
and your [theoretical] niceness.
(But they were always
part of it, too.)
It was always about that way
you had of saying the right things,
when you tried the least.
And your sincerity
and genuine give-a-shit.
About people who didn't.
Because in a world of people
who live on just
that pride
or complexity
or brilliance
and a world full of people,
all with theoretical [niceness]:
You were always something more.
Fool
So you're waiting for a hero?
To come and sweep you off
your unsteady feet
and weak knees.
While you cry on your side,
holding the chipping
gold tiara
and the birds by your window
will ask you what's wrong.
You say you can't find
your emerald shoes
and your lips are cracked
from all your biting.
And the thorns outside
are starting to break in.
And the butterflies
are mocking you
for even they've found
their freedom to fly.
And the mirror shards
on the floor
stare back at you
to show you all your lies.
The world you claim
has to no time to
save princesses anymore.
The world's changed.
But the clock is ticking
and chiming,
and laughing.
Because the world
has always stayed the same.
The crown is black under
the cheap paint, it seems.
And your fits at night
is showing in your knees.
The birds look back,
and blink in surprise
Your problems they say,
seem foolish
in their eyes.
Because maybe if you had used
the years trying
to escape the world
of false luxury
you created,
you'd have known
the life outside
that waited.
And heroes are harder
to wait for
when they don't know
who they're saving.
But you'll tell yourself.
Only because
they're not looking.
So you're lost,
waiting for nothing.
But you'll stay,
living for this dream.
Live on paint and rust,
because your silk dress is ripping.
and you'll cry for nothing,
until all your tears are gone.
To come and sweep you off
your unsteady feet
and weak knees.
While you cry on your side,
holding the chipping
gold tiara
and the birds by your window
will ask you what's wrong.
You say you can't find
your emerald shoes
and your lips are cracked
from all your biting.
And the thorns outside
are starting to break in.
And the butterflies
are mocking you
for even they've found
their freedom to fly.
And the mirror shards
on the floor
stare back at you
to show you all your lies.
The world you claim
has to no time to
save princesses anymore.
The world's changed.
But the clock is ticking
and chiming,
and laughing.
Because the world
has always stayed the same.
The crown is black under
the cheap paint, it seems.
And your fits at night
is showing in your knees.
The birds look back,
and blink in surprise
Your problems they say,
seem foolish
in their eyes.
Because maybe if you had used
the years trying
to escape the world
of false luxury
you created,
you'd have known
the life outside
that waited.
And heroes are harder
to wait for
when they don't know
who they're saving.
But you'll tell yourself.
Only because
they're not looking.
So you're lost,
waiting for nothing.
But you'll stay,
living for this dream.
Live on paint and rust,
because your silk dress is ripping.
and you'll cry for nothing,
until all your tears are gone.
Disaster
We were beautiful together, once.
Two jagged pieces.
Two misfits who felt the world
was theirs for the taking.
We broke each other apart
and knew just how
the pieces fit together again.
And when the world thought
we didn't quite fit in
and when it tried to show
we were one, terrifying disaster.
We laughed at its face
and smiled
as we defied the universe.
We were two halves
of an imperfect whole.
And the edges never did
quite line up together.
And the world was right
We were one, terrifying
beautiful disaster.
And an amazing one, at that.
We were two jagged pieces.
Two misfits who took the world.
And watched it burn.
And we were beautiful together.
Once.
Two jagged pieces.
Two misfits who felt the world
was theirs for the taking.
We broke each other apart
and knew just how
the pieces fit together again.
And when the world thought
we didn't quite fit in
and when it tried to show
we were one, terrifying disaster.
We laughed at its face
and smiled
as we defied the universe.
We were two halves
of an imperfect whole.
And the edges never did
quite line up together.
And the world was right
We were one, terrifying
beautiful disaster.
And an amazing one, at that.
We were two jagged pieces.
Two misfits who took the world.
And watched it burn.
And we were beautiful together.
Once.
Remains
When I was young I was a fool,
did not stop and think
about which was real
or which was beautiful.
And you of all people,
knew how to coat things
just the right amount.
So I believed
that they were both.
As you strung my heart along,
with your eyes and your smile
and your laughter.
And I could never quite doubt,
that you were everything
you claimed to be.
So I made myself believe it.
You were the one for me.
And so you played with the remains
of the person I used to be.
While you tried to laugh it all away.
To make it all better.
But darling, you destroyed me.
[And you won't even admit it. ]
So wrap me up in the lies
and empty words.
While I try to sort them out,
to protect myself from the hurt.
But I guess it'll all cave
from under us.
And I'll just watch you try
and fail
to regain my shattered trust.
did not stop and think
about which was real
or which was beautiful.
And you of all people,
knew how to coat things
just the right amount.
So I believed
that they were both.
As you strung my heart along,
with your eyes and your smile
and your laughter.
And I could never quite doubt,
that you were everything
you claimed to be.
So I made myself believe it.
You were the one for me.
And so you played with the remains
of the person I used to be.
While you tried to laugh it all away.
To make it all better.
But darling, you destroyed me.
[And you won't even admit it. ]
So wrap me up in the lies
and empty words.
While I try to sort them out,
to protect myself from the hurt.
But I guess it'll all cave
from under us.
And I'll just watch you try
and fail
to regain my shattered trust.
More
I was nothing more than a girl
who buried her face
in the thick textbooks
of subjects she didn't care about.
All to try to please
a woman who never would
be proud of anything.
You were nothing more than a boy
who irritated me
on a daily basis.
Pestered me with words,
not very subtle insults.
And a smirk that I felt
one day I wanted to wipe off
that far too [deceivingly]
angelic face of yours.
And days dragged on and on.
And it felt you were determined.
To never leave me alone.
To annoy me until my
then-uncontrollable temper
flared out at you.
And would calm down, as always.
To simple, but glaring annoyance.
While you just shook your head.
And laughed.
And the days stretched
into weeks, and then months.
And eventually I learned
to get used to your
[unfairly] charming grin.
And you slowly made me
look up more and more
from the thin, old pages
and tiny, bunched-up ink stains.
We both know
how we both changed back then.
Slowly, daily. In small things
that later on, we realized
were big ones.
And suddenly you were more than just
an arrogant, sarcastic Australian.
And I was finally more
than that girl who got high scores
in math and science exams.
And I went through that phase
of needing you so badly
it started to destroy me.
While you,
still didn't believe in love.
And left, just as you always do.
Back to where your home was.
For only-God-knows how long.
And soon enough you were with [her]
Who brought out your rage,
with her need for perfection
and attention.
And I tried to ask
why it was her over me.
But back then you didn't care.
At least, until,
she drove your patience
to its snapping point.
And then you were more than just
everything that was bad for me.
It was as if the distance
had slowly shrunk until it was gone.
And you were my best friend.
Who knew me better than anyone else.
And you were the one whose,
surprisingly warm smile
sparked up those defiantly proud
sapphire eyes.
And I guess it was my fault
we messed up the first time.
Asked about her until you
just couldn't take it,
until you hated the way
I couldn't trust you.
[But can you honestly blame me,
when I heard the way
you talked about her back then?
She was the one with the blue eyes
and immaculate hair,
and I was just afraid
of losing you.
And I hate that I did,
for a while.]
And 6 months passed,
and I wondered if you had
any idea at all
of how much you've changed.
And all I did when I wasn't with you
was write out things
to try to explain to myself
how I fell for such an [idiot.]
(But no one else
could ever get away
with calling you that.)
And then you were so much more
than just my best friend.
You became the best damn thing
that's ever happened to me.
You brought out the rebel,
dying inside the unhappy academic.
You freed the dreamer,
the writer, the speaker,
inside this temperamental [brat.]
And the only thing, I guess.
That you couldn't do for me.
[Now that you're gone]
Was to teach this lost, little girl
how to live on without you.
who buried her face
in the thick textbooks
of subjects she didn't care about.
All to try to please
a woman who never would
be proud of anything.
You were nothing more than a boy
who irritated me
on a daily basis.
Pestered me with words,
not very subtle insults.
And a smirk that I felt
one day I wanted to wipe off
that far too [deceivingly]
angelic face of yours.
And days dragged on and on.
And it felt you were determined.
To never leave me alone.
To annoy me until my
then-uncontrollable temper
flared out at you.
And would calm down, as always.
To simple, but glaring annoyance.
While you just shook your head.
And laughed.
And the days stretched
into weeks, and then months.
And eventually I learned
to get used to your
[unfairly] charming grin.
And you slowly made me
look up more and more
from the thin, old pages
and tiny, bunched-up ink stains.
We both know
how we both changed back then.
Slowly, daily. In small things
that later on, we realized
were big ones.
And suddenly you were more than just
an arrogant, sarcastic Australian.
And I was finally more
than that girl who got high scores
in math and science exams.
And I went through that phase
of needing you so badly
it started to destroy me.
While you,
still didn't believe in love.
And left, just as you always do.
Back to where your home was.
For only-God-knows how long.
And soon enough you were with [her]
Who brought out your rage,
with her need for perfection
and attention.
And I tried to ask
why it was her over me.
But back then you didn't care.
At least, until,
she drove your patience
to its snapping point.
And then you were more than just
everything that was bad for me.
It was as if the distance
had slowly shrunk until it was gone.
And you were my best friend.
Who knew me better than anyone else.
And you were the one whose,
surprisingly warm smile
sparked up those defiantly proud
sapphire eyes.
And I guess it was my fault
we messed up the first time.
Asked about her until you
just couldn't take it,
until you hated the way
I couldn't trust you.
[But can you honestly blame me,
when I heard the way
you talked about her back then?
She was the one with the blue eyes
and immaculate hair,
and I was just afraid
of losing you.
And I hate that I did,
for a while.]
And 6 months passed,
and I wondered if you had
any idea at all
of how much you've changed.
And all I did when I wasn't with you
was write out things
to try to explain to myself
how I fell for such an [idiot.]
(But no one else
could ever get away
with calling you that.)
And then you were so much more
than just my best friend.
You became the best damn thing
that's ever happened to me.
You brought out the rebel,
dying inside the unhappy academic.
You freed the dreamer,
the writer, the speaker,
inside this temperamental [brat.]
And the only thing, I guess.
That you couldn't do for me.
[Now that you're gone]
Was to teach this lost, little girl
how to live on without you.
Sugar
Author's Note: I finally decided to update the poems on this blog. =)) These have been on my Deviantart for a while now, but I decided to wait a bit until I could figure out what I wanted to post here. XD So the next few series of posts will be old poems that I'm moving, starting with this~
///
Trying to convince myself
harder and harder
that I'm still in love with you.
Through all the screaming,
I'll still find it in myself
to forgive all you do.
Because somehow, I know.
It's all easier than
to face the truth.
We both know
but can't find it in ourselves
to admit it.
I don't know if it's pride.
Or maybe we've gotten used
to the cycle we've fallen into.
Of screaming,
nights filled with tears.
Followed by a morning,
greeted by apologies
and kisses that taste
of the coffee you love so much.
But I now notice
how you douse it,
the once pure black mixture
with too much sugar.
It's far too bitter now,
you say.
Your taste has changed.
And now your kisses
are just too sweet.
And it makes me sick.
///
Trying to convince myself
harder and harder
that I'm still in love with you.
Through all the screaming,
I'll still find it in myself
to forgive all you do.
Because somehow, I know.
It's all easier than
to face the truth.
We both know
but can't find it in ourselves
to admit it.
I don't know if it's pride.
Or maybe we've gotten used
to the cycle we've fallen into.
Of screaming,
nights filled with tears.
Followed by a morning,
greeted by apologies
and kisses that taste
of the coffee you love so much.
But I now notice
how you douse it,
the once pure black mixture
with too much sugar.
It's far too bitter now,
you say.
Your taste has changed.
And now your kisses
are just too sweet.
And it makes me sick.
March 28, 2011
Exception
Author's Note: Started...waaaay back. =)) Finally finished it, huzzah! Not exactly sure what to think of this.
This was supposed to be so much shorter, I dunno why it got so long. =))
So after weeks and weeks of writer's block, a sudden burst of 1, 500 words needed to finish this story!
///
I’m not lying when I say I loved her, even more so than I did myself. I still have the notebook she gave me with some of the things she had written about me. I always thought she was an amazing writer, I’ll never figure out why she thought she wasn’t. Then again, I’ve never been artistic; I guess I can’t be the judge.
Her parents hated me. They always went on and on about how I was bad for her.
xXx
I.
We met in the playground; I think I was around 7. I was an impatient kid back then, so I ended up pushing her down the slide when she was taking too long. Even a few years afterwards, she would still be as deathly afraid of heights.
She skid her knees and ran away crying. Her parents found out and had talked to my dad, and he beat me and grounded me. Mom called me a demonic child, and started praying and weeping. My older sister laughed when I went into our room with a swollen eye, before going back to her studying.
II.
I was used to failing school. Teachers always scolded me and said I could do a lot better. Maybe they’re right, but I honestly didn’t care.
My Homeroom teacher was nosy. God, I hated her. She had demanded for me to be tutored by an “exemplary student.”
I wouldn’t have agreed, but my dad said it would be best for me.
I knew he thought I was a bad son. My sister was always getting high grades, and praises. She was her batch’s Valedictorian, and student council president.
She was what my parents considered the family pride, and I was the son they wanted to disown one day.
~~~
That was the first day she tutored me. I recognized her immediately-few people had hair that red and eyes that green. She sat beside me and asked what our lesson was.
I was 11, and that was about the physically closest a girl’s been to me.
Her name was Alice.
And I could only be relieved that she didn’t remember who I was.
~~~
I was alone at lunch, most of the time. While the occasional ditz came over to try to get closer to the school’s “mysterious loner.” I usually ignored them until they went away.
Alice surprised me; she had sat down at the table, across from me. And without a warning, she started talking to me.
She was interesting, I’ll give her that. I didn’t know a lot of girls back then that played video games. We started talking about games at the arcade, about games that were coming up. That was one of the longest conversations I ever had with anyone at school.
I couldn’t help but notice when she put one of her hands down on the table. Her fingernails in particular stood out-they looked badly chewed.
III.
I’m not sure why, but I guess after that we just spent practically everyday together. People started talking about the two of us in school, I honestly didn’t care.
After going through the embarrassment of talking to her during that time my voice was cracking, I was 13 and getting relatively better grades. She was what people would call my best friend, I suppose.
She got a haircut; her red hair wasn’t straight anymore. It was a layered frame around her face, and people started noticing her more.
Damn, that was the first time I realized she was beautiful.
~~~
She had auditioned for a play; I even helped read lines with her those entire 2 weeks. All she talked about then was how nervous she was. It amazed me, how someone could be so ambitious. It made me think for a while about what I wanted with life. I didn’t know, but I thought thirteen was a bit too young to worry about those kinds of things.
Then she came over to my house the day results came out. My parents and sister had just left for another family dinner that I refused to go to, and it was around 9PM at that time. I was surprised when I opened the door and she just fell on me for support.
That was the first time since she fell in the playground that I’ve seen her cry.
Part of me hated myself for not knowing how to make it all better. I led her to the couch and she bit her nails again and again in the attempt to stop her sobs.
~~~
I wanted to tell her not to, but I couldn’t be the one to dictate what she should do with her life. I wasn’t the one who knew what was best for her. So to everyone’s surprise, she had quit the school newspaper to make room for acting workshops and classes.
She had just turned 14, and told me she needed bigger dreams.
I could only wonder what was wrong with her dream of becoming a journalist. Then she said a thirteen-year-old wouldn’t understand.
I didn’t know, if she was right about that or not. All I wanted during that time was for her to be happy.
IV.
I had tried to make her a cake for her birthday, despite my sister laughing her head off when she saw me baking in the kitchen. The cake wasn’t a failure, I think. I’m proud of that.
When I came over to her house, I was wondering if she even liked chocolate. I was worried for so long in front of the door before I finally got the courage to knock. Her mom opened the door and frowned.
She knew I was the guy her daughter’s been tutoring. I tried to be as nice or as charming as possible, but I guess I’m just not good with parents. She told me Alice had an acting class and closed the door in my face.
I waited on the sidewalk until she came back. The icing on the cake had melted by the time she got home, but she just laughed and thanked me for it before taking a piece of the cake with her fingers.
She ended up with a bit of chocolate smeared on her right cheek.
And I silently thanked the God I was slowly starting to believe in. She was still the amazing girl I’ve always known.
She started talking about another upcoming play, and she rested her on my shoulder while subconsciously biting at her nails.
V.
I still couldn’t believe she had said yes to me when I asked her to prom.
She had had her hair curled, and her fiery-colored ringlets around her face made her look even more amazing than I thought she did. Her nails were now covered with what she called fake ones, and it was hard for anyone who had just met her to believe she used to chew on them.
We were both 17.
And I was still too much of a coward to say anything about how I felt.
~~~
That day, I got on the honor roll for the first time, and she finally got the lead role in a play.
We spent that afternoon after school at the arcade, and we saved the world from the next zombie invasion.
~~~
She failed her first quiz that day, and was completely devastated while talking to me during lunch.
I didn’t know how to make her feel better, so I just stayed silent and gave her the last scoop of ice cream in the cafeteria that I was able to get. I never liked sweet things, so I hadn’t even touched it. She told me about how rehearsals gave her less time to study.
She had finished the ice cream and the bell that told us lunch was over rang. And when I got back to the classroom, one random realization hit me. She didn’t bite her nails the entire time.
~~~
I’m not sure what surprised me the most-the fact that she was off the honors list for the first time, the fact that I was on it for a second time, or that Alice didn’t even seem to care anymore.
My family suspected I was cheating in school, and my dad beat me up again that day. My sister, who had just quit her job because she got a better one (gee, lucky her, Mom and Dad were proud again), sneered at me and told me if I wasn’t cheating, I was getting lucky.
Part of me was glad Alice didn’t ask about the bruises when I ate with her at lunch. She seemed too preoccupied with the script she was reading.
Reluctantly, I asked about what her parents said when they found out she was off the honor roll. She shrugged and said they were never strict about her grades, how it was only her own goal that gave her the push to study hard.
I’m not entirely sure if I should be worried that she just basically told me she didn’t give a damn about her grades anymore.
I tried to ask if she wanted a break after school, since there was a new ice cream stand across the street. I knew they had her favorite flavor.
She glared at me and told me I should know better. The bell rang and she said she had no more time for breaks, before going ahead of me to her next class.
---
I was used to walking home alone, but somehow that day felt terrible. The 3 o’clock heat was scorching, and my bag felt heavy from the workload that day.
A bunch of guys who were notorious for being the neighborhood delinquents passed by and stepped in front of me. One of them smirked and asked me if I was the guy Alice was dating.
I couldn’t lie, I wasn’t dating her. They laughed and told me that was good, because otherwise I was being cheated on.
I had no idea what the hell they were talking about.
Apparently there were rumors about how she was with the president of the drama club. One of the guys in the group said Alice let him fuck her for the lead role in the play.
I’m not sure what happened next. All I know is that I was overcome by rage, and I think I punched him.
There were five of them, and they were really big. I woke up on the street, with a bloody taste in my mouth and unbearable pain in my left arm, and swore when I tried to move it. It felt like it was broken. Fuck, it was broken. Those bastards, AH, shit. I shouldn’t have tried to do that, now I think I made it worse. I tried to check my phone with my other hand for the time, but that and my wallet were gone. Great, I’ve been robbed.
I looked up at the sky, and after a while guessed it was around 5.
Somehow, it scared me to think I could have been one of those guys. I was, for a while. When I was 10, I thought throwing rocks at the noisy cats on the street was funny. They were a fairly fun group of people to be with, at the time. Although I finally left when one of them brought a pack of white powder and they all started sniffing it.
I knew back then, when I was 13, that drug abuse was the reason Alice’s older brother died. They started ignoring me at school after that. I didn’t really care. But knowing them, I guess I can’t count on them to give me my stuff back.
I didn’t know what to tell the people at hospital, as I came in looking bloody and with a limp arm. The nurse asked if I had been mugged, and since I didn’t know what else to say, I just nodded as they started wrapping my arm.
My dad was angry when I got home. He called me a careless idiot when I told him I got mugged and sent me to my room.
With the numbing pain everywhere in my body and the questions running through my mind, I couldn’t fall asleep. The memory of what that one guy had told me was making me think until my head start throbbing.
Eventually I decided that Alice wouldn’t have done that. No matter what anyone said, I was sure they were wrong. I know she always told me about how badly she wanted this, and I know for a fact that people are goddamn selfish by nature, and they lie through their teeth to get what they want.
But she was an exception.
~~~
I guess it was too much to hope for that I would stay on the honor roll. I was off soon enough, and my sister just told me my luck had run out. My father said he knew it wouldn’t last either.
I didn’t mind much, after all, I was just as surprised as they were when I got in. I was just slightly disappointed with myself, I suppose.
A few days after that, I realized it was almost prom. With everything that had been happening, I’d been too distracted to even think about it. Now here I was, without a suit, because apparently the one in my closet has shrunk too much around my arms. I have terrible luck.
When I came and reluctantly asked my parents to get me a suit, my dad just started laughing and wouldn’t believe that any girl, let alone Alice, even agreed to go with me. Seeing as that was a success, I went back into my room and was suddenly grateful I started saving up last school-year. I had more than enough money to buy a suit.
Hell, I can’t even begin to describe just how nervous I was when I looked in the mirror during prom night. My hair actually cooperated with me, and I had to admit I looked fairly decent. I’d probably look terrible next to her though, but oh well.
I felt shitty, not having a car to pick her up in, but she told me she was fine with just meeting me there, at the gym.
It looked great, which wasn’t what I was expecting. They had done a winter theme, and the place didn’t look anything like the old and worn-out gym we knew. I looked around, and people were already sitting by tables, chairs, standing around and talking to each other. No sign of Alice, so I stepped out of the room and waited by the door.
Then she arrived. I didn’t notice her at first, because I had spaced out while staring at a locker door. She had called my name and I turned, and well, what can I say. I was stunned. She looked amazing. So I pretty much just stood there, kind of gawking like an idiot for a while before she tilted her head and asked what was wrong. I had to say something then. ANYTHING, to keep myself from looking this idiotic.
I told her the color of her dress was black, and she just laughed and told me that she knew, and we both went into the gym. Damn, I’m just really…brilliant. God.
Somehow, once I had gotten my senses back, I was able to ask her to dance with me. I’m not sure whether or not I should consider it a mistake, because apparently, neither of us have any kind of sense of rhythm. We tripped, stumbled, and were basically the complete opposite of our teacher’s instruction of ‘dance elegantly and gracefully.’
But after that, we just laughed it off and went to get some punch, and she told me that at least she doesn’t have to dance for her play.
Honestly, prom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Around 2 hours in, me and Alice were extremely bored, and she suggested we go out and watch the new horror movie. So still in her dress, and me still in my suit, we left and headed for the cinema, where people stared at us while we were in line for the ticket booth.
I didn’t give a damn at that point, and we decided to talk in fake British accents to try and pretend we were classy and rich.
We failed, miserably, and even more people stared. But at that point during the night, we couldn’t care less.
And so, some of the important things I learned that night:
1) I cannot dance worth anything.
2) I can’t pull off a British accent; Alice thought I sounded vaguely Indian, instead.
3) She scares easy.
4) It feels good to have her in my arms when she’s scared.
5) And damn, I was wrong to doubt her. She really is an exception.
~~~
I stood outside the theatre with three flowers in my hand(I wasn't even sure what flowers they were, but the guy at the flower shop said he was sure she'd love it.) Today was the first showing of her play, and she had given me a ticket for a seat in the front row. After all the practices she'd gone through, I was sure she was going to be great.
As soon I went in I cursed under my breath for not bringing a jacket because of the cold, but I couldn't go home to get one now. A lot of people pushed past me to meet up with the actors before the show started, and I looked around for Alice. She waved at me from behind a small crowd. But by the time I walked up to her and gave her the flowers, she only had time to mutter a thanks before she had to rush off because the performers were being called, which also meant I had to get in line.
---
The set was huge, and the backgrounds had been painted down to each little detail. Everything looked nice, and I moved in my seat to get comfortable. It wasn't easy, considering that I was freezing. One of the airconditioners was above my seat.
What were the odds.
And then the lights dimmed, and everyone stopped mumbling and whispering as a spotlight came on.
I have to give them credit, they don't take old plays and make revisions. They start from scratch and make entire new storylines, and that was one thing I admired.
Alice had volunteered to write parts of the script, from what she told me. I knew she had written the beginning, and so far it seemed brilliant.
And then she walked on stage, for the start of the next scene.
Fuck. Just...fuck.
Her acting was horrible.
The audience had gotten noisy again, and I could tell what they were talking about. But I couldn't seem to get mad at them. Because, well... so far it seems that everything about this play is brilliant except for her acting. No one could understand why she had a lead role.
After the play was done, and the people had left the theatre, I started to walk back home, still in shock.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned around to see Alice smiling at me, and she laughed and asked what she thought of it. Apparently everyone backstage had congratulated her for a good job.
I wanted to tell her what I honestly thought(and what the audience thought), but I just took one look at how happy she was, and I just couldn't. I've never seen her smile like that. I didn't want to break her heart by telling her I thought it was godawful. I tried to smile, and told her she was wonderful.
~~~
The school newspaper didn't even try to sugarcoat what they wanted to say about the play. It had been distributed in the cafeteria at lunch that day, and Alice looked up at me, with tears in her eyes after reading. She asked me if I really thought she had done a good job.
I tried to meet her eyes, but her eyes were welling up with tears, and I looked away. When I told her that I thought she did amazing, she threw the newspaper down on the table and demanded I tell her the truth. Then I just shook my head and told her, as blankly as I could, that she was a bad actress, but that the script was great.
She shook her head and told me she didn't care about the script before running out.
I started to follow her, and I could tell a lot of people were staring in my direction. I clenched my fists and tried to tell them to mind their business, but I think I sounded more outraged than I had wanted.
And then some goddamn idiot shouted out that my "slutty girlfriend" was probably off to fuck someone else for another role to a play. I couldn't help it, I looked up to look for the source of the voice, and tried to start beating him up. I only landed a few punches before all his friends started to close around me, each throwing punches at me until I fell to the ground, at which point they started kicking me.
After a while someone had probably gone and told someone, because then the principal stood over me while I was curled up on the floor. The ones who had beat me up were gone, and I was walking alone to the office for detention.
I don't think Dad was as surprised that I had gotten in trouble, he probably expects me to get in trouble all the time, but he still walked in looking furious. I tuned out the sound of his voice as he started shouting at how much of an idiotic kid I was, and I looked up at the door as the knob turned.
Alice and the president of the drama club entered with a teacher holding on to both their arms, and I couldn't make out everything, but they were whispering a bit too loudly. I managed to make out the words 'closet', 'call', and 'parents'.
I wasn't sure what to think about that. I looked at her, and she met my eyes for a second before looking away. That look in her eyes was unmistakable.
And it slowly sunk in that all the rumors were true.
For a while, everything was a blur. Her parents stormed into the office, and I heard unclear shouting from both them and my Dad, from Alice, and the noise filled my ears. I heard someone saying it was all my fault, and I just couldn't take it anymore. These people were all idiots.
"SHUT UP!"
Everyone looked at me, and I ran out before anybody could tell me otherwise. I didn't know what to do, I was fuming. My clenched fists were shaking, and tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. I grit my teeth at the sound I heard next. It was her voice telling me to wait. The sight of her fueled my rage. I wasn't in control anymore. I slammed her against the lockers and stared at her, while she looked back with her fear in her eyes. She opened her mouth and shakily tried to explain something, but I couldn't hear her. I didn't want to hear her. She screamed when I slammed a fist against the locker door beside her head. Damn it, I had missed. But instead of aiming for another hit, I just held on to her.
I think she cried out in pain when I gripped her shoulders too tightly, but I didn't care. I wanted to hurt her. Make her cry for nights on end for what she did. For what felt like eternity we both just stood there, in an almost total silence if it weren't for the quick, shallow breaths we were taking. There was begging in her eyes, and my own anger scared me. I wanted so much to crush her fragile little frame in my hands.
But fuck it.
I couldn't.
After I felt a tear start rolling down my cheek I let her go and looked away.
"I-I'm sor-"
"Save it."
I started to walk back to the office, and turned back toward her before continuing, to remind her she was still in trouble.
~~~
That was the last straw for my dad. He told me he was going to transfer me to a school that would fix me. That was going to be my last term at the school.
I just nodded when he said all that. Maybe I needed it. Maybe they're right, I'm just a stupid rebel of a kid who needed to be taught better. I thought she would be the one to fix me, to make me alright. I thought she was the one thing in my life that wasn't a mistake.
I was wrong.
VI.
She had tried to apologize a couple of times. Maybe I was just a douchebag, for ignoring her even then.
It was the last day of school, and it had hit the day of my 18th birthday. I had the forms in my hand, that would make it official that I was transferring. It was after final bell, and it was weird for me to see the school that quiet. I walked through the hallway, thinking this was the last time I would ever see this place. I wonder if I'd even get the chance to see her one last time.
A voice interrupted my thoughts; someone greeted me happy birthday. The voice caught me by surprise, and I turned around to see her behind me, with a box in her hands.
She repeated the greeting and extended her arms to give me the box. I took it, and opened the lid.
It had a chocolate cake that looked a lot like the one I had made for her before, only the icing of this one was still intact, and had neat cursive lettering that spelled out the words
I'm sorry
I just stood there for a while, and I wasn't sure how to react. I just stared at the cake, and I almost forgave her right then. I felt a smile rise up in my lips, as small as it was. It's been a while since I've smiled at all.
But then I looked up, and stared in surprise-she had gotten contacts for her eyes, and now they were blue. I stared at her eyes, and then at the ringlets around her face. My eyes trailed down towards the nails at the ends of her fingers. They glinted back in the light, coated in the nail polish she always had on now. She always had a nail file in her pocket too. And I realized just how different she was from the gamer, the brilliant writer, and the amazing girl I fell in love with 7 years ago.
She still had all of that, and I knew. But...she didn't want to be any of it. And maybe that was what made it worse.
So I looked back up to see her smiling expectantly at me. I'm not sure if her smile's different, or if I just never noticed before how sickeningly sweet her smile is. She tilted her head in that absentminded way she usually does when she's excited, and tells me she's worked really hard on it.
I stared into her now-blue eyes, and I just couldn't find it in myself to care anymore.
"I never liked sweets."
I didn't turn back, I didn't even look at her again as I dropped off the forms and walked out of the school. I only briefly stopped at the poster for the summer play, and noticed she had a pretty important role, yet again. Good for her.
I passed by the ice cream store I never got to visit with her and looked back down at the sidewalk.
I always hated sweets. And I guess she's just become too sugary for my taste.
I guess she's not the exception.
Not anymore.
This was supposed to be so much shorter, I dunno why it got so long. =))
So after weeks and weeks of writer's block, a sudden burst of 1, 500 words needed to finish this story!
///
I’m not lying when I say I loved her, even more so than I did myself. I still have the notebook she gave me with some of the things she had written about me. I always thought she was an amazing writer, I’ll never figure out why she thought she wasn’t. Then again, I’ve never been artistic; I guess I can’t be the judge.
Her parents hated me. They always went on and on about how I was bad for her.
xXx
I.
We met in the playground; I think I was around 7. I was an impatient kid back then, so I ended up pushing her down the slide when she was taking too long. Even a few years afterwards, she would still be as deathly afraid of heights.
She skid her knees and ran away crying. Her parents found out and had talked to my dad, and he beat me and grounded me. Mom called me a demonic child, and started praying and weeping. My older sister laughed when I went into our room with a swollen eye, before going back to her studying.
II.
I was used to failing school. Teachers always scolded me and said I could do a lot better. Maybe they’re right, but I honestly didn’t care.
My Homeroom teacher was nosy. God, I hated her. She had demanded for me to be tutored by an “exemplary student.”
I wouldn’t have agreed, but my dad said it would be best for me.
I knew he thought I was a bad son. My sister was always getting high grades, and praises. She was her batch’s Valedictorian, and student council president.
She was what my parents considered the family pride, and I was the son they wanted to disown one day.
~~~
That was the first day she tutored me. I recognized her immediately-few people had hair that red and eyes that green. She sat beside me and asked what our lesson was.
I was 11, and that was about the physically closest a girl’s been to me.
Her name was Alice.
And I could only be relieved that she didn’t remember who I was.
~~~
I was alone at lunch, most of the time. While the occasional ditz came over to try to get closer to the school’s “mysterious loner.” I usually ignored them until they went away.
Alice surprised me; she had sat down at the table, across from me. And without a warning, she started talking to me.
She was interesting, I’ll give her that. I didn’t know a lot of girls back then that played video games. We started talking about games at the arcade, about games that were coming up. That was one of the longest conversations I ever had with anyone at school.
I couldn’t help but notice when she put one of her hands down on the table. Her fingernails in particular stood out-they looked badly chewed.
III.
I’m not sure why, but I guess after that we just spent practically everyday together. People started talking about the two of us in school, I honestly didn’t care.
After going through the embarrassment of talking to her during that time my voice was cracking, I was 13 and getting relatively better grades. She was what people would call my best friend, I suppose.
She got a haircut; her red hair wasn’t straight anymore. It was a layered frame around her face, and people started noticing her more.
Damn, that was the first time I realized she was beautiful.
~~~
She had auditioned for a play; I even helped read lines with her those entire 2 weeks. All she talked about then was how nervous she was. It amazed me, how someone could be so ambitious. It made me think for a while about what I wanted with life. I didn’t know, but I thought thirteen was a bit too young to worry about those kinds of things.
Then she came over to my house the day results came out. My parents and sister had just left for another family dinner that I refused to go to, and it was around 9PM at that time. I was surprised when I opened the door and she just fell on me for support.
That was the first time since she fell in the playground that I’ve seen her cry.
Part of me hated myself for not knowing how to make it all better. I led her to the couch and she bit her nails again and again in the attempt to stop her sobs.
~~~
I wanted to tell her not to, but I couldn’t be the one to dictate what she should do with her life. I wasn’t the one who knew what was best for her. So to everyone’s surprise, she had quit the school newspaper to make room for acting workshops and classes.
She had just turned 14, and told me she needed bigger dreams.
I could only wonder what was wrong with her dream of becoming a journalist. Then she said a thirteen-year-old wouldn’t understand.
I didn’t know, if she was right about that or not. All I wanted during that time was for her to be happy.
IV.
I had tried to make her a cake for her birthday, despite my sister laughing her head off when she saw me baking in the kitchen. The cake wasn’t a failure, I think. I’m proud of that.
When I came over to her house, I was wondering if she even liked chocolate. I was worried for so long in front of the door before I finally got the courage to knock. Her mom opened the door and frowned.
She knew I was the guy her daughter’s been tutoring. I tried to be as nice or as charming as possible, but I guess I’m just not good with parents. She told me Alice had an acting class and closed the door in my face.
I waited on the sidewalk until she came back. The icing on the cake had melted by the time she got home, but she just laughed and thanked me for it before taking a piece of the cake with her fingers.
She ended up with a bit of chocolate smeared on her right cheek.
And I silently thanked the God I was slowly starting to believe in. She was still the amazing girl I’ve always known.
She started talking about another upcoming play, and she rested her on my shoulder while subconsciously biting at her nails.
V.
I still couldn’t believe she had said yes to me when I asked her to prom.
She had had her hair curled, and her fiery-colored ringlets around her face made her look even more amazing than I thought she did. Her nails were now covered with what she called fake ones, and it was hard for anyone who had just met her to believe she used to chew on them.
We were both 17.
And I was still too much of a coward to say anything about how I felt.
~~~
That day, I got on the honor roll for the first time, and she finally got the lead role in a play.
We spent that afternoon after school at the arcade, and we saved the world from the next zombie invasion.
~~~
She failed her first quiz that day, and was completely devastated while talking to me during lunch.
I didn’t know how to make her feel better, so I just stayed silent and gave her the last scoop of ice cream in the cafeteria that I was able to get. I never liked sweet things, so I hadn’t even touched it. She told me about how rehearsals gave her less time to study.
She had finished the ice cream and the bell that told us lunch was over rang. And when I got back to the classroom, one random realization hit me. She didn’t bite her nails the entire time.
~~~
I’m not sure what surprised me the most-the fact that she was off the honors list for the first time, the fact that I was on it for a second time, or that Alice didn’t even seem to care anymore.
My family suspected I was cheating in school, and my dad beat me up again that day. My sister, who had just quit her job because she got a better one (gee, lucky her, Mom and Dad were proud again), sneered at me and told me if I wasn’t cheating, I was getting lucky.
Part of me was glad Alice didn’t ask about the bruises when I ate with her at lunch. She seemed too preoccupied with the script she was reading.
Reluctantly, I asked about what her parents said when they found out she was off the honor roll. She shrugged and said they were never strict about her grades, how it was only her own goal that gave her the push to study hard.
I’m not entirely sure if I should be worried that she just basically told me she didn’t give a damn about her grades anymore.
I tried to ask if she wanted a break after school, since there was a new ice cream stand across the street. I knew they had her favorite flavor.
She glared at me and told me I should know better. The bell rang and she said she had no more time for breaks, before going ahead of me to her next class.
---
I was used to walking home alone, but somehow that day felt terrible. The 3 o’clock heat was scorching, and my bag felt heavy from the workload that day.
A bunch of guys who were notorious for being the neighborhood delinquents passed by and stepped in front of me. One of them smirked and asked me if I was the guy Alice was dating.
I couldn’t lie, I wasn’t dating her. They laughed and told me that was good, because otherwise I was being cheated on.
I had no idea what the hell they were talking about.
Apparently there were rumors about how she was with the president of the drama club. One of the guys in the group said Alice let him fuck her for the lead role in the play.
I’m not sure what happened next. All I know is that I was overcome by rage, and I think I punched him.
There were five of them, and they were really big. I woke up on the street, with a bloody taste in my mouth and unbearable pain in my left arm, and swore when I tried to move it. It felt like it was broken. Fuck, it was broken. Those bastards, AH, shit. I shouldn’t have tried to do that, now I think I made it worse. I tried to check my phone with my other hand for the time, but that and my wallet were gone. Great, I’ve been robbed.
I looked up at the sky, and after a while guessed it was around 5.
Somehow, it scared me to think I could have been one of those guys. I was, for a while. When I was 10, I thought throwing rocks at the noisy cats on the street was funny. They were a fairly fun group of people to be with, at the time. Although I finally left when one of them brought a pack of white powder and they all started sniffing it.
I knew back then, when I was 13, that drug abuse was the reason Alice’s older brother died. They started ignoring me at school after that. I didn’t really care. But knowing them, I guess I can’t count on them to give me my stuff back.
I didn’t know what to tell the people at hospital, as I came in looking bloody and with a limp arm. The nurse asked if I had been mugged, and since I didn’t know what else to say, I just nodded as they started wrapping my arm.
My dad was angry when I got home. He called me a careless idiot when I told him I got mugged and sent me to my room.
With the numbing pain everywhere in my body and the questions running through my mind, I couldn’t fall asleep. The memory of what that one guy had told me was making me think until my head start throbbing.
Eventually I decided that Alice wouldn’t have done that. No matter what anyone said, I was sure they were wrong. I know she always told me about how badly she wanted this, and I know for a fact that people are goddamn selfish by nature, and they lie through their teeth to get what they want.
But she was an exception.
~~~
I guess it was too much to hope for that I would stay on the honor roll. I was off soon enough, and my sister just told me my luck had run out. My father said he knew it wouldn’t last either.
I didn’t mind much, after all, I was just as surprised as they were when I got in. I was just slightly disappointed with myself, I suppose.
A few days after that, I realized it was almost prom. With everything that had been happening, I’d been too distracted to even think about it. Now here I was, without a suit, because apparently the one in my closet has shrunk too much around my arms. I have terrible luck.
When I came and reluctantly asked my parents to get me a suit, my dad just started laughing and wouldn’t believe that any girl, let alone Alice, even agreed to go with me. Seeing as that was a success, I went back into my room and was suddenly grateful I started saving up last school-year. I had more than enough money to buy a suit.
Hell, I can’t even begin to describe just how nervous I was when I looked in the mirror during prom night. My hair actually cooperated with me, and I had to admit I looked fairly decent. I’d probably look terrible next to her though, but oh well.
I felt shitty, not having a car to pick her up in, but she told me she was fine with just meeting me there, at the gym.
It looked great, which wasn’t what I was expecting. They had done a winter theme, and the place didn’t look anything like the old and worn-out gym we knew. I looked around, and people were already sitting by tables, chairs, standing around and talking to each other. No sign of Alice, so I stepped out of the room and waited by the door.
Then she arrived. I didn’t notice her at first, because I had spaced out while staring at a locker door. She had called my name and I turned, and well, what can I say. I was stunned. She looked amazing. So I pretty much just stood there, kind of gawking like an idiot for a while before she tilted her head and asked what was wrong. I had to say something then. ANYTHING, to keep myself from looking this idiotic.
I told her the color of her dress was black, and she just laughed and told me that she knew, and we both went into the gym. Damn, I’m just really…brilliant. God.
Somehow, once I had gotten my senses back, I was able to ask her to dance with me. I’m not sure whether or not I should consider it a mistake, because apparently, neither of us have any kind of sense of rhythm. We tripped, stumbled, and were basically the complete opposite of our teacher’s instruction of ‘dance elegantly and gracefully.’
But after that, we just laughed it off and went to get some punch, and she told me that at least she doesn’t have to dance for her play.
Honestly, prom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Around 2 hours in, me and Alice were extremely bored, and she suggested we go out and watch the new horror movie. So still in her dress, and me still in my suit, we left and headed for the cinema, where people stared at us while we were in line for the ticket booth.
I didn’t give a damn at that point, and we decided to talk in fake British accents to try and pretend we were classy and rich.
We failed, miserably, and even more people stared. But at that point during the night, we couldn’t care less.
And so, some of the important things I learned that night:
1) I cannot dance worth anything.
2) I can’t pull off a British accent; Alice thought I sounded vaguely Indian, instead.
3) She scares easy.
4) It feels good to have her in my arms when she’s scared.
5) And damn, I was wrong to doubt her. She really is an exception.
~~~
I stood outside the theatre with three flowers in my hand(I wasn't even sure what flowers they were, but the guy at the flower shop said he was sure she'd love it.) Today was the first showing of her play, and she had given me a ticket for a seat in the front row. After all the practices she'd gone through, I was sure she was going to be great.
As soon I went in I cursed under my breath for not bringing a jacket because of the cold, but I couldn't go home to get one now. A lot of people pushed past me to meet up with the actors before the show started, and I looked around for Alice. She waved at me from behind a small crowd. But by the time I walked up to her and gave her the flowers, she only had time to mutter a thanks before she had to rush off because the performers were being called, which also meant I had to get in line.
---
The set was huge, and the backgrounds had been painted down to each little detail. Everything looked nice, and I moved in my seat to get comfortable. It wasn't easy, considering that I was freezing. One of the airconditioners was above my seat.
What were the odds.
And then the lights dimmed, and everyone stopped mumbling and whispering as a spotlight came on.
I have to give them credit, they don't take old plays and make revisions. They start from scratch and make entire new storylines, and that was one thing I admired.
Alice had volunteered to write parts of the script, from what she told me. I knew she had written the beginning, and so far it seemed brilliant.
And then she walked on stage, for the start of the next scene.
Fuck. Just...fuck.
Her acting was horrible.
The audience had gotten noisy again, and I could tell what they were talking about. But I couldn't seem to get mad at them. Because, well... so far it seems that everything about this play is brilliant except for her acting. No one could understand why she had a lead role.
After the play was done, and the people had left the theatre, I started to walk back home, still in shock.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned around to see Alice smiling at me, and she laughed and asked what she thought of it. Apparently everyone backstage had congratulated her for a good job.
I wanted to tell her what I honestly thought(and what the audience thought), but I just took one look at how happy she was, and I just couldn't. I've never seen her smile like that. I didn't want to break her heart by telling her I thought it was godawful. I tried to smile, and told her she was wonderful.
~~~
The school newspaper didn't even try to sugarcoat what they wanted to say about the play. It had been distributed in the cafeteria at lunch that day, and Alice looked up at me, with tears in her eyes after reading. She asked me if I really thought she had done a good job.
I tried to meet her eyes, but her eyes were welling up with tears, and I looked away. When I told her that I thought she did amazing, she threw the newspaper down on the table and demanded I tell her the truth. Then I just shook my head and told her, as blankly as I could, that she was a bad actress, but that the script was great.
She shook her head and told me she didn't care about the script before running out.
I started to follow her, and I could tell a lot of people were staring in my direction. I clenched my fists and tried to tell them to mind their business, but I think I sounded more outraged than I had wanted.
And then some goddamn idiot shouted out that my "slutty girlfriend" was probably off to fuck someone else for another role to a play. I couldn't help it, I looked up to look for the source of the voice, and tried to start beating him up. I only landed a few punches before all his friends started to close around me, each throwing punches at me until I fell to the ground, at which point they started kicking me.
After a while someone had probably gone and told someone, because then the principal stood over me while I was curled up on the floor. The ones who had beat me up were gone, and I was walking alone to the office for detention.
I don't think Dad was as surprised that I had gotten in trouble, he probably expects me to get in trouble all the time, but he still walked in looking furious. I tuned out the sound of his voice as he started shouting at how much of an idiotic kid I was, and I looked up at the door as the knob turned.
Alice and the president of the drama club entered with a teacher holding on to both their arms, and I couldn't make out everything, but they were whispering a bit too loudly. I managed to make out the words 'closet', 'call', and 'parents'.
I wasn't sure what to think about that. I looked at her, and she met my eyes for a second before looking away. That look in her eyes was unmistakable.
And it slowly sunk in that all the rumors were true.
For a while, everything was a blur. Her parents stormed into the office, and I heard unclear shouting from both them and my Dad, from Alice, and the noise filled my ears. I heard someone saying it was all my fault, and I just couldn't take it anymore. These people were all idiots.
"SHUT UP!"
Everyone looked at me, and I ran out before anybody could tell me otherwise. I didn't know what to do, I was fuming. My clenched fists were shaking, and tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. I grit my teeth at the sound I heard next. It was her voice telling me to wait. The sight of her fueled my rage. I wasn't in control anymore. I slammed her against the lockers and stared at her, while she looked back with her fear in her eyes. She opened her mouth and shakily tried to explain something, but I couldn't hear her. I didn't want to hear her. She screamed when I slammed a fist against the locker door beside her head. Damn it, I had missed. But instead of aiming for another hit, I just held on to her.
I think she cried out in pain when I gripped her shoulders too tightly, but I didn't care. I wanted to hurt her. Make her cry for nights on end for what she did. For what felt like eternity we both just stood there, in an almost total silence if it weren't for the quick, shallow breaths we were taking. There was begging in her eyes, and my own anger scared me. I wanted so much to crush her fragile little frame in my hands.
But fuck it.
I couldn't.
After I felt a tear start rolling down my cheek I let her go and looked away.
"I-I'm sor-"
"Save it."
I started to walk back to the office, and turned back toward her before continuing, to remind her she was still in trouble.
~~~
That was the last straw for my dad. He told me he was going to transfer me to a school that would fix me. That was going to be my last term at the school.
I just nodded when he said all that. Maybe I needed it. Maybe they're right, I'm just a stupid rebel of a kid who needed to be taught better. I thought she would be the one to fix me, to make me alright. I thought she was the one thing in my life that wasn't a mistake.
I was wrong.
VI.
She had tried to apologize a couple of times. Maybe I was just a douchebag, for ignoring her even then.
It was the last day of school, and it had hit the day of my 18th birthday. I had the forms in my hand, that would make it official that I was transferring. It was after final bell, and it was weird for me to see the school that quiet. I walked through the hallway, thinking this was the last time I would ever see this place. I wonder if I'd even get the chance to see her one last time.
A voice interrupted my thoughts; someone greeted me happy birthday. The voice caught me by surprise, and I turned around to see her behind me, with a box in her hands.
She repeated the greeting and extended her arms to give me the box. I took it, and opened the lid.
It had a chocolate cake that looked a lot like the one I had made for her before, only the icing of this one was still intact, and had neat cursive lettering that spelled out the words
I'm sorry
I just stood there for a while, and I wasn't sure how to react. I just stared at the cake, and I almost forgave her right then. I felt a smile rise up in my lips, as small as it was. It's been a while since I've smiled at all.
But then I looked up, and stared in surprise-she had gotten contacts for her eyes, and now they were blue. I stared at her eyes, and then at the ringlets around her face. My eyes trailed down towards the nails at the ends of her fingers. They glinted back in the light, coated in the nail polish she always had on now. She always had a nail file in her pocket too. And I realized just how different she was from the gamer, the brilliant writer, and the amazing girl I fell in love with 7 years ago.
She still had all of that, and I knew. But...she didn't want to be any of it. And maybe that was what made it worse.
So I looked back up to see her smiling expectantly at me. I'm not sure if her smile's different, or if I just never noticed before how sickeningly sweet her smile is. She tilted her head in that absentminded way she usually does when she's excited, and tells me she's worked really hard on it.
I stared into her now-blue eyes, and I just couldn't find it in myself to care anymore.
"I never liked sweets."
I didn't turn back, I didn't even look at her again as I dropped off the forms and walked out of the school. I only briefly stopped at the poster for the summer play, and noticed she had a pretty important role, yet again. Good for her.
I passed by the ice cream store I never got to visit with her and looked back down at the sidewalk.
I always hated sweets. And I guess she's just become too sugary for my taste.
I guess she's not the exception.
Not anymore.
January 18, 2011
Dysfunctional
Author's Notes:
Randomly got the inspiration for this one random morning, quickly took note of it on my phone, and wrote it out a few hours later. Fairly old piece, wrote it on December 15. Waha. =))The first of my recent pieces that I consider relatively decent. Semi-inspired by We Can Get Them For You Wholesale by Neil Gaiman.
Not sure what to think of this, actually.
I'm not sure if the story is clear. Anyway~
/////
Something in my family had snapped the day Dad died.
I mean sure, I supposed we were always what some people would call a dysfunctional family. My parents didn't exactly have a good marriage, and my little sister never talked. We still don't know what's wrong with her, neither does the doctor. We have a feeling she just doesn't want to talk. Dad always used to get mad whenever she just stared at him silently, but she never cried like little girls either. I don't really recall ever seeing my sister do anything other than stare off into space or make strange drawings with her crayons.
I, on the other hand, was who they expected to be the good and responsible elder brother. They wanted me to have it all-good grades, good at sports, student council president…all that perfect-student crap that I couldn't be bothered with. Sometimes it felt bad, knowing Mom was disappointed in me. She'd try to talk to me sometimes. She'd tell me about how I should value the future, and try to be more ambitious. I would feel a bit more motivated to study, but then Dad would start talking and shouting, and I knew he was drunk again.
He'd been drinking ever since he got laid off from his job at the company. It wasn't his fault, he always told us. He'd chug down more of his bottle of beer and tell us the story for the nth time in slurred words: that he wasn't supposed to invest that money. He had been tricked, and then framed-and now he could only wallow in misery around the house and expect me to succeed in life. He wanted me to become vice president, like he was, and not mess up like he did.
I felt bad for Mom during that time though. She was the one that had to take charge of earning the money. Dad wouldn't get off his lazy ass to go find another job. He suddenly started believing that companies and businessmen were evil. Mom had quit her job when she had me-but since that day she was hardly ever at home. I was amazed, by how she'd work all day and come home at night and still be able to make us some of her really good, special Mom-style home cooking. And that was the time I started hating Dad with everything in me. He never did anything but complain.
He never did anything but stumble around the house shouting at me to go out and buy some food or some more beer(even when I constantly remind him that I'm underaged and they wouldn't let me buy the beer). Then he'd pass by Lily, who would be coloring her new drawing by the carpet and he'd just kick the crayons away from her and ask her why she wouldn't draw rainbows and unicorns like a normal girl should.
She wouldn't answer of course, and that only made him angry.
Every time things like this happened around the house, it made it harder and harder for me to believe that he was the Dad I knew when I was 5. He used to be my hero-and I told myself I wanted to be like him.
Now I'm doing everything I can to make sure I never will.
I talk to my sister about the old Dad sometimes. I'm not entirely sure if she can understand me or not, but I have a feeling that if she did, she didn't believe me. I don't believe myself sometimes. Maybe I'm just imagining the Dad I never had.
///
It's been around 3 months since Dad's been gone.
Mom's gone crazy, I think. At first I didn't really notice it. For around a week the dishes in the sink started piling up, until I eventually decided to start washing them. She'd been walking around in a daze-and sometimes I'd find her humming to herself a tune that sounded vaguely familiar.
Around the third week since Dad's been gone, I started noticing how she went around with only half her face made up, and the other half of her hair was disheveled. She'd always smile though, whenever she passed by me and my sister at the breakfast table, and then she'd be off to work, humming the familiar tune again.
The worst time was when she just suddenly downstairs; and just broke down crying on the floor of the living room. I was stunned-I didn't have any idea what to say.
And most surprising of all-Lily walked up to her on her small legs and tugged on her shirt, and asked her what was wrong.
Mom stopped crying and stared at her; neither of us could believe she had just talked.
///
I heard Mom humming again in her room. After a few minutes of Lily just staring at her waiting for an answer, Mom had collapsed on the carpet. I slowly opened the door to her room, and saw her propped up on her pillow, and she smiled at me.
She looked fine now. The eyebags were still under her eyes, which had only appeared since Dad died, and she was still kind of pale, but she seemed to have gotten better since a while ago.
I replaced the glass of water and put a tablet of medicine on a napkin on the table before walking towards the door. I was about to leave when Mom softly spoke up and told me about how it was harder for her to sleep now, without Dad to sing her to sleep.
"He used to sing you to sleep too, you know."
I didn't know what to say. I turned back and noticed the sadness in Mom's eyes.
"I know you hated him, but he wasn't always like that. I'm sure you remember."
"Mom, I…"
"He was still your father. He just forgot sometimes whenever he was drinking. You and Lily were always asleep by the time he became sober again."
The last few words were mumbled. Mom had fallen asleep again. I guess I can't blame her. She must be exhausted. She always seems to be, nowadays.
I never considered the possibility that she loved Dad that much. It always seemed like she was just doing all of that for us, once Dad broke down and became a useless drunkard. I never noticed just how much she loved him. But it is kind of hard to notice, when he was always beating her up. That was another reason I hated him. Mom was fragile, and she would always have bruises on her legs or arms whenever I saw her at breakfast.
I went back to my room and blinked, noticing something was different.
The yellow pages directory was open on my study table, on the page I had visited last.
The ad.
And I knew what Mom had seen to make her tell me that.
///
Lily had started talking after that day. She never became talkative, but she does talk now. It was completely unexpected and sudden, but the sad thing is that I think she's become just as jaded as me. She still doesn't show emotion. She never laughs or cries. Apparently some kids in the neighborhood are scared of her.
Although sometimes I pass by her room and hear her screaming, in some weird way. I think she lets everything out in her room. She doesn't draw anymore, and she doesn't want to start school. Mom and I don't know what to do with her, then.
Mom's still working from morning until night. She's better, in a way. She fixes herself up properly now and hasn't broken down again. She stopped making home cooked food though, me and Lily have gotten used to instant noodles and frozen dinners.
Mom has stopped humming the tune, and she had had all the pictures and other memories of Dad thrown out, and his old things donated.
Strangely enough, Lily says she doesn't even remember ever having a father.
///
I guess something in all of us changed the day I had Dad killed.
But I honestly didn't do it on purpose.
I thought the ad in the yellow pages was only a joke.
Randomly got the inspiration for this one random morning, quickly took note of it on my phone, and wrote it out a few hours later. Fairly old piece, wrote it on December 15. Waha. =))The first of my recent pieces that I consider relatively decent. Semi-inspired by We Can Get Them For You Wholesale by Neil Gaiman.
Not sure what to think of this, actually.
I'm not sure if the story is clear. Anyway~
/////
Something in my family had snapped the day Dad died.
I mean sure, I supposed we were always what some people would call a dysfunctional family. My parents didn't exactly have a good marriage, and my little sister never talked. We still don't know what's wrong with her, neither does the doctor. We have a feeling she just doesn't want to talk. Dad always used to get mad whenever she just stared at him silently, but she never cried like little girls either. I don't really recall ever seeing my sister do anything other than stare off into space or make strange drawings with her crayons.
I, on the other hand, was who they expected to be the good and responsible elder brother. They wanted me to have it all-good grades, good at sports, student council president…all that perfect-student crap that I couldn't be bothered with. Sometimes it felt bad, knowing Mom was disappointed in me. She'd try to talk to me sometimes. She'd tell me about how I should value the future, and try to be more ambitious. I would feel a bit more motivated to study, but then Dad would start talking and shouting, and I knew he was drunk again.
He'd been drinking ever since he got laid off from his job at the company. It wasn't his fault, he always told us. He'd chug down more of his bottle of beer and tell us the story for the nth time in slurred words: that he wasn't supposed to invest that money. He had been tricked, and then framed-and now he could only wallow in misery around the house and expect me to succeed in life. He wanted me to become vice president, like he was, and not mess up like he did.
I felt bad for Mom during that time though. She was the one that had to take charge of earning the money. Dad wouldn't get off his lazy ass to go find another job. He suddenly started believing that companies and businessmen were evil. Mom had quit her job when she had me-but since that day she was hardly ever at home. I was amazed, by how she'd work all day and come home at night and still be able to make us some of her really good, special Mom-style home cooking. And that was the time I started hating Dad with everything in me. He never did anything but complain.
He never did anything but stumble around the house shouting at me to go out and buy some food or some more beer(even when I constantly remind him that I'm underaged and they wouldn't let me buy the beer). Then he'd pass by Lily, who would be coloring her new drawing by the carpet and he'd just kick the crayons away from her and ask her why she wouldn't draw rainbows and unicorns like a normal girl should.
She wouldn't answer of course, and that only made him angry.
Every time things like this happened around the house, it made it harder and harder for me to believe that he was the Dad I knew when I was 5. He used to be my hero-and I told myself I wanted to be like him.
Now I'm doing everything I can to make sure I never will.
I talk to my sister about the old Dad sometimes. I'm not entirely sure if she can understand me or not, but I have a feeling that if she did, she didn't believe me. I don't believe myself sometimes. Maybe I'm just imagining the Dad I never had.
///
It's been around 3 months since Dad's been gone.
Mom's gone crazy, I think. At first I didn't really notice it. For around a week the dishes in the sink started piling up, until I eventually decided to start washing them. She'd been walking around in a daze-and sometimes I'd find her humming to herself a tune that sounded vaguely familiar.
Around the third week since Dad's been gone, I started noticing how she went around with only half her face made up, and the other half of her hair was disheveled. She'd always smile though, whenever she passed by me and my sister at the breakfast table, and then she'd be off to work, humming the familiar tune again.
The worst time was when she just suddenly downstairs; and just broke down crying on the floor of the living room. I was stunned-I didn't have any idea what to say.
And most surprising of all-Lily walked up to her on her small legs and tugged on her shirt, and asked her what was wrong.
Mom stopped crying and stared at her; neither of us could believe she had just talked.
///
I heard Mom humming again in her room. After a few minutes of Lily just staring at her waiting for an answer, Mom had collapsed on the carpet. I slowly opened the door to her room, and saw her propped up on her pillow, and she smiled at me.
She looked fine now. The eyebags were still under her eyes, which had only appeared since Dad died, and she was still kind of pale, but she seemed to have gotten better since a while ago.
I replaced the glass of water and put a tablet of medicine on a napkin on the table before walking towards the door. I was about to leave when Mom softly spoke up and told me about how it was harder for her to sleep now, without Dad to sing her to sleep.
"He used to sing you to sleep too, you know."
I didn't know what to say. I turned back and noticed the sadness in Mom's eyes.
"I know you hated him, but he wasn't always like that. I'm sure you remember."
"Mom, I…"
"He was still your father. He just forgot sometimes whenever he was drinking. You and Lily were always asleep by the time he became sober again."
The last few words were mumbled. Mom had fallen asleep again. I guess I can't blame her. She must be exhausted. She always seems to be, nowadays.
I never considered the possibility that she loved Dad that much. It always seemed like she was just doing all of that for us, once Dad broke down and became a useless drunkard. I never noticed just how much she loved him. But it is kind of hard to notice, when he was always beating her up. That was another reason I hated him. Mom was fragile, and she would always have bruises on her legs or arms whenever I saw her at breakfast.
I went back to my room and blinked, noticing something was different.
The yellow pages directory was open on my study table, on the page I had visited last.
The ad.
And I knew what Mom had seen to make her tell me that.
///
Lily had started talking after that day. She never became talkative, but she does talk now. It was completely unexpected and sudden, but the sad thing is that I think she's become just as jaded as me. She still doesn't show emotion. She never laughs or cries. Apparently some kids in the neighborhood are scared of her.
Although sometimes I pass by her room and hear her screaming, in some weird way. I think she lets everything out in her room. She doesn't draw anymore, and she doesn't want to start school. Mom and I don't know what to do with her, then.
Mom's still working from morning until night. She's better, in a way. She fixes herself up properly now and hasn't broken down again. She stopped making home cooked food though, me and Lily have gotten used to instant noodles and frozen dinners.
Mom has stopped humming the tune, and she had had all the pictures and other memories of Dad thrown out, and his old things donated.
Strangely enough, Lily says she doesn't even remember ever having a father.
///
I guess something in all of us changed the day I had Dad killed.
But I honestly didn't do it on purpose.
I thought the ad in the yellow pages was only a joke.
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