I'm a twat.
Born into this world I never use, I never take advantage of.
Forced to play a sport called living, a game called living, a game I will surely lose, I'm no good at it.
I'm no good at living.
I can't even remember all the times I've tried to tell him, I'm no good at living, but he says I'm damn good. He says I'm damn good, and I'm going to win. I'm going to win the game. I'm going to win the game, and I'll make it onto the leader board, because I need to, because I have to, because I want to.
Because I can't.
It's December, and death is in the air. Can't you feel it? Feel it. So cold, that it burns. It burns your arms and your fingers, so you need to put extra cloth on both, so you need to bundle up. It will chill you to the bone, so maybe it's best to stay inside. Go on, stay inside. Walk up the spiral staircase, the one with the shitty green carpet, the nasty forest green, the one your mother hates. Own it. Own the staircase. Sob. Run. Sob and run. Up the stairs, and back down to pick at your dinner. Scarce crumbs. Dump them, for grandfather to haul out your window, come garbage night. Ignore your stomach, guilting you into self destruction. Ignore the voices, guilting you into self destruction.
It's December.
It's December the third.
You have homework.
I have homework.
I have history homework.
I'd procrastinated.
I will be re-visted, come morning,
With a quiz,
And one test.
Dambur is a disgrace of a suburb, and I often fantasize it'd be wiped off the map of the United States of America. And people say all places are the same, breed the same monsters, vomit up the same disgrace, but every single time I hear it, I grow more and more reluctant to believe it.
I'm filth. I'm filth! Danbur filth. I am the girl. I am the girl who slipped lube onto your door knob, in a fit of giggles. The girl who hears you whisper, the girl who cowers. The girl you hate, you hate her because she's easy to hate, not because you hate her. And we all know who I'm referring to, because I am the girl.
I waste dinner, I waste anger, I waste tears, I waste waste, I spend my time wasting, I don't get out much. I'm afraid. Oh God, I'm afraid. I'm so scared, I'm shaken and I'm stirred. Scrambled. Danbur's favorite breakfast. Fried. With a side of bacon. Burnt to the crisps.
Everyone sees it too.
I know they see it.
She told me.
He told me.
I've heard about it, too, you know.
I'm a twat.
Born into this world I never use, I never take advantage of.
As the semesters first snowflake marks it's territory on the ground....
The semesters first razor marks it's territory on my skin.
It's going to be a good Winter.
