Here Is All I Have

o n e

it almost hurt to be around him. he was so perfect, in my eyes. i look at him and some part of me tells me to look away. although, this other, stronger part of me insists that I should never look away. he was art, in a very abstract form.

i didn't know the first thing about religion; but i knew right away i would soon be worshipping this boy.

"hey, let's hang out," he says to me on day one of the end of me. i smile shyly and try to avert my gaze. don't you dare look too long, i scold myself, he will notice.
"i would love to," i replied coolly, walking to class trying ever so desperately to clear the smile from my face. i couldn't allow my classmates to see me so vulnerably smitten.

"what music do you listen to?" he asked me on day three of the end of me. i should have listed some of my favorite bands. instead, i give him an answer i know will please him.
"anything you want to play for me," i felt as if i loved him already. how could i be so foolish? falling in love so carelessly...

i usually write every night, i haven't missed a day since third grade, when i could hardly spell 'journal.'

on day seven of the end of me, he tells me to stay out past curfew. i know i shouldn't, but what if he leaves me if i refuse?

"well, sure.

anything for you."

that night my mother scolded me, her breath smelt of alcohol and i knew not to fight. i was tired, anyway. "mother, it won't happen again, i promise you,"

and i went to bed, without my journal next to me, no fresh ink spilled on the pages. it won't happen again.

but on day twelve, it happened again. my love told me we needed to go on an adventure together, and the thought was so utterly enticing, i didn't even think about the consequences i would have. i just wanted him to be happy.

he didn't want an adventure that night, though, he wanted a shit ton of alcohol and sweaty sex in the bed of his truck. i truly wasn't sure about this; i'd insisted on waiting for marriage, but... i needed to please my love. so i gave myself to him, apprehensively. he didn't go slow for me, and it hurt quite a lot. he told me he loved me, though, after our intimacy, and suddenly the pain was worth it.

that night, i didn't even go home. my journal sat on my desk where i had left it. my mother sat on my bed all night, not sleeping for a moment in fear of my whereabouts. ('you could have been dead,' she reminds me the next morning when i come home. i apologize, but it's not sincere. i would do anything for my love.)

"you know how hard it has been for me since the accident. you know that, and you still stayed out all night without a single message or call to tell me you were okay! i was terrified!" she's been depressed and intoxicated since the accident last year. my lovely sibling got a bit too in love, and he stayed out with his disaster of a girlfriend. then he was killed. his girlfriend didn't even cry. she was a whore, then. i don't say this because my love had previous relations with her. i say this because it's the truth. she was incapable of love, she used my brother until he died.