oblivion [michael clifford]

eleven

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I began walking. Anywhere really. Anywhere that Michael wasn't present, I wanted to go. The idea of him actually doing drugs appalled me. I should have never met him. I should have never got into his car. I should have never let him fucking kiss me or lay a hand on me. This is what I get though. This is my punishment for trusting to easily. He played it off so well. Michael made me believe there wasn't a single bad bone in his body. That he was some goody-two-shoes that wouldn't hurt a fly.

But life doesn't turn out that way. Ever. I have grown to believe that things don't happen the way you want them to. And in those times, you have to deal with it. You have to let it go and turn your head. Because that's how life goes. That's how the world keeps going in it's vicious cycle of pain and heartache.

I have to realize that the world will never be good. Michael will always be bad and never change and keep secrets from me. My friends aren't coming back no matter how much I want them to. And my mom will be gone for forever. This is my daily dose of bad luck. I have to accept it though. I can't just go on dwelling on the previous happenings.

The thing is though, that is harder than it sounds because deep down inside I will always want Michael. I will always want the feeling he gave me. The feeling of being wanted. The feeling of someone needing you. You don't just find that everyday. That thing is almost the stuff in movies.

But now I'll never have that because of the words I had said to him. I had told him I never wanted anything to do with him. That I didn't want to see his face ever again. That he disgusted me and whatever we had was over. I'm not sure how I did it. Through anger possibly? But as I trudged through the rain in a neighborhood I wasn't familiar with, I regretted it. A part of me wanted to say to hell with him, but another wanted him still. I wanted his touch, his feelings, his everything really. And maybe I am just living in a fairy tale, but everything he did sent me wild. All of the good things that is.He made me feel so special. I'm not though. I'm just a normal and boring girl. He was probably just using me this whole entire time.

I noticed a large oak tree. It's branches and leaves in full bloom, but the rain made the tree seem gloomy. The green leaves were drooping down from the amount of water on them. The roots of the tree had made it's way to the sidewalk and grew into and out of the cracks. I drove past this tree a lot, but I never took the time to acknowledge it. How big it was or how old it was. The top of the tree seemed to go on for forever, almost never ending and touching the dark, clouded sky. I made my way to the tree. My small hand seemed as if it were nonexistent compared to the dark, drenched bark. My fingertips grazed the wood and it was as if me and this tree had a connection.

This tree was me. The sadness of it was almost a representation of how I was feeling. I felt brought down. I felt like I was reaching for something but could never grasp it. Like there was always something on my shoulders, keeping me from having a good time or taking it away.

The tears welled in the rims of my eyes yet again. The hot streams of water poured out and skidded down my cold cheeks. My stomach grew the knot that I hated. My mind urged it over and over to go away, but it was persistent. It wouldn't stop until it made me look like a complete fool and an idiot.

I leaned my forehead against the dark brown, rain drop stained bark of the oak and softly sobbed to myself. My life was a huge mess of confusion and broken hearts. Nothing made any sense to me. Everything was just a big blur. The tears fell from my eyes and onto the cement pavement, I couldn't tell what was the tears or the rain drops. They were as lost as I was.

I then picked my head up and decided to begin walking again. There's no use in standing here acting like a mess. I wiped the tears and thought that it was useless because the rain drops would just make my face as wet as the tears.