In Bloom

Sliver

  When I wake up, I smell food. I hadn't eaten in almost three days. I wasn't sure if I should or shouldn't eat, but if I wasn't offered food I definitely was not going to ask for it.
  The aroma is of curry. I get up to go into the kitchen, it is filled with natural light. "Good morning, Tracy," I say. She turns away from the burn-stained pot of steaming vegetables. "Good morning, Marisol," she says, looking tired. No, stressed.
   "Have you spoken to your mother?" My mother. " Why would I have? I don't mean anything to her, not do I have anything to say to her," I explain. "You need to call her," Tracy says firmly, disappointment in her eyes and anger within the lines of her face. "For what?" I snap. "Don't you think she wonders where you are?!" yells Tracy. I looked down, at the floor. "I'll call her," I say. Tracy gives me the house phone and I begin to dial her phone number.
  "Hello," I say blandly when the line picks up. "Marisol?!" she asks, almost in a shout. "Do you want me to come home?" "¡Sí! You're crazy, right?" she's shouting in my ear. I hang up. "Guess I have to go home. I'll walk," I say. "No, I can drive you," she says. "I want to walk," I insisted.

  Walking is the time when I can think. I can think about anything and leave my head in the clouds, galaxies from reality. 

                                                                            I want to think

   For

  some

 reason

 the only thoughts that fill my head are about music and suicide and boys and how much I miss... everything. How much I miss the old me and the thoughts that used to run through my head that weren't paralyzingly terrifying or sad. The ones about how plants eat or if stars can breathe, the thoughts from when I was younger. The thoughts I used to have that only made me cry when they involved math comprehension. How much I miss whatever-his-face whose name I don't want to say. The laugh. The smile. The eyes I can't seem to remember because it's been too long, but the personality hidden behind layers of  dimples that I wouldn't ever forget. How much I miss laughs with my friends who weren't friends, just untrustworthy backstabbers. Just guy-craving loners who were wolves in sheep's wool and waiting to capture what they could get out of me so they could either talk about it or devour my trust and chew it up to spit in my face. But I only miss them for the lessons they taught me. There were few, who were better to me than the wolves-as-'friends'. There are too many things I miss that I won't get back, I guess that's how it's meant to be. Or maybe I'm just doing something wrong.

I was snatched out of my day dream by a small UHAUL truck beeping at me continuously. I figured it would happen. I figured I wouldn't be paying attention and would waltz right into the street.

     For a split second I wished the truck would've killed me, just so I could see my moms reactions when she heard about it. Then I'd haunt her.

   Just another passing thought. I was born a mistake, I'm a train wreck in the making.

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       I had woken up 20 minutes before I had to leave, which wouldn't be a problem if I didn't take 15 minutes just to encourage myself to get out of bed. When I woke up I just braided my hair and put on a tight-fitting, black and white "In Utero" top with a pair of ripped skinny jeans and non-prescription glasses. I left without breakfast and rode my bicycle to school as usual when I wasn't in the mood to talk. I pedaled quickly on the sidewalk -because our mayor hadn't gotten funds for a bike lane- and made my way to school in 20 minutes. I locked my bike to a stand and walked up the stairs to the doors of my school. I took one big breath and opened the door to the school.