melted

why i've been gone, part two, unedited.

i'll never be able to tell the whole story. never be able to fit all the pieces together, never be able to tell where it all started to crumble. what i do know is where i have been, and where i am now.

summer. i sweat in the heat and under the gazes that glaze my face more than the sweat drops erase my place, i'm dropping ranks, taking places and taking names, it takes place in a not-so blank space where their aims were rank and i dropped to the floor. i searched for cold. i found only screeching coal in a steeping core, a tea kettle ready to overflow and drop me smack-dab in the center of the aforementioned human race, the lesson is a message that the henchmen try to escape, that's why i walk around blindly. i lined my underlinings with laced upsetting threats to myself, i tied my knots in my shoelaces, upsetting everyone else, i tried my best. i said i was blessed. blessed to have them, blessed to have you. i would be pressed to be asked if i was wrong, for saying that and relaxing was a task beyond grasping in solely my own two hands, the soles of my feet trampling the soul of the nation i ached for, the grace that i attempted, the life i hoped would be mine if i assumed a position of assuming it could be.

spring. the flowers bloomed, and where were you? i was sneezing in a breeze where fleas had decided to flee to, cheesing at a camera that clamored on with the rise and fall of the rise of fall, yet leaves were still green and so was i, with envy making me choke and vomit on my own words, watching it drip instead of drift like the petals i wished on, forgetting the forget-me-nots in a daze as i swayed to a lovesick windswept melody that drove me insane. i told them i was alive, and i did not lie, for george would have my head. the founding father of a founding father, fate established, founded. i found hatred in the blue and hated the way it felt to blow everything away.

winter. i slept.

fall. it's only started yet i feel like i've gone backwards. i've only started writing yet i feel as if i haven't written anything at all. i'm small but not small enough, i track my food instead of my grades, i ingest the hate and swallow it down so nobody sees the lump in my throat amidst the vague vapors of vapid airheads misting and missing everything. they see me as second-rate. they see me smiling. i've chosen to approach neither one nor the other and instead i just watch. looking at them from a distance, they just look like words.

i haven't read into it.
i miss it (us)