16 doesn't seem too far from 15.
Although, I've fallen in love with my name.
I want to tell you I feel different, like my heart aches for a different human or that I feel content with how things are structured in my life currently. Thing about love is: it's out of hand, unworthy and most of all dysfunctional. My love for him hasn't gone, quite frankly I feel at a total loss of control, as much as I've tried denying the fact I don't feel for him anymore. He hadn't made it easy. It was only last week he messaged, the light projected my room immensely; a different font. Unprepared I check the dimmed green that dispensed inside my eyes.
"You want to meet soon?"
A small quake of white erupted my face before I ran to the toilet and threw up.
He hurts so fucking bad because I know what he wants.
I'm sure he's entirely unaware of what he's doing to me. Totally blind to how I feel or just choosing not to open his fucking eyes. Sixteen and I'm throwing up over a boy I fell for months ago.
I am making a list for and against seeing him, for is outweighing against.
My friends tell me I can do better.
What if better isn't what I want. What if he is all I want. Reading our old messages haunts me but not enough to make me want to stop.
Baby, I've fallen for you replays in my head.
Twat.
You're such a fucking cunt.
I hate him. No, I hate me for allowing myself to love such an idiot. I told him I didn't believe in love... I was trying to convince myself as I knew once I'd fallen, there's no easy way of getting back up.
My hands smell of sick and my eyes sting. I feel like death, I look like death and I want to be dead.
I've missed my period twice.
I'm hungry all the time, sexually frustrated and tired as fuck. My hormones are so imbalanced I feel dizzy, I'm a natural disaster.
My mom is a delusional drunk, my dad is depressed, my sister wants to kill herself, my hairs falling out, my skin feels like ice, nothings growing other than the hair on my legs and he continues to confide in my heart after seven sore months. I am unwanted.
03:00
She's so pretty, the way her heart displayed a thread of purity along with the sinister hope for a better future. The waters purge the earth's sands and burn the planet's light, while the good and bad hide beyond legs of many. Being only seven, crashing into that car mimicked my mind. My eye had smeared of wounds that speared across my face. I pulled the mirror down of the cars top, watching my face slowly drip with blood that had now coordinated with my tears. My wrist felt numb only to find it had snapped the other way. She was so pretty. The car's smoke interrupted her shock, breathing slowly I watched my mother as she scanned my fucked-up face, weeping as the realisation seeped within her sewn up veins. This heavy weight of sleep dosed me, there was no pain to be felt. My skin matched the ivory flowers that seeped into the car's doors. My eyes rolled like dice to the back of my head where I found her skin match the quilt of my bed, opposing to mine, her eyes stood still. The shoulder had impaired from the bone structure of my little sister's body. Everything shallowed like oceans in my head, washing away the sounds from the surrounding villagers, converting their lives to attend to ours.
I loved the comforting taste of the blood that caressed at my lips. Murmuring to her, I pleaded to exit the metal that held my back, only to find my eyes sink and my lips shake. Horror choked my throat as I tried the doors containing us. The doors did not open.
Another flashback... the car accident is something I can't get rid of. What if it affects my driving as an adult? I know it was over eight years ago, but it still simmers in my mind.
Thursday
The alcohol my mother consumes showers dark shadows below her eyes and consumes her age. Waves of utter depression seeped in her gut and annihilated her tones. The sweet screams curled in my head, the delirious desire for a sober word through the shallows and flames of her open wounds. Printed smiles choked my room, so did the roses that fell from my bed. my eyes still penetrated from the sounds of my head.
I remember much of her... she grew colder than the wind and quieter than sand, but her youth and beauty was so loud. Hazelnut cocoa ran in her eyes, they mellowed and sunk to the patterns of timeless fudge . Indefinitely her cheekbones, I wish to have possessed. The structure of her skin flawlessly matched the dark oak of the trees I once climbed. Her arms mixed with mine; our smiles flourished unaware of the hidden futures. Her touch warmed my skin, and her love menaced my heart. She was so pure. So perfect. I loved all of her. Her fights and utter devotion, her selflessness, a blend of her worries and her smiles I met almost every hour. But most of all, I loved her motherhood. I was never safe nor was I ever content, but I was loved in all her ways of loving.
Her alcohol poisoned my childhood. Wars bottled our words; unpredictable sickness beckons our presence which was once a hopeful future. Sometimes I wonder if she hates herself. Drinking is such an exquisite mess, pulling at my roots and intoxicating my happiness. A trade from pretty currents of the ocean to grains of the dizziest rocks. She just sleeps, under this sunken mess.
Yet she's consistently withering within my walls I built so well. Only sometimes, am I reminded of her Innocence. You want to go mom? You want to leave? I'm not going to stop you.
please understand
as a nine year old stood at the top of the stairs
I never wanted this
just a little girl
aching for her mommy
I still weep for you...
just colder than the wind and quieter than the sand.
