Poems

This weird oneshot kinda

Going back to the truck, I open maddies door first to check on the sleeping girl. She lays on her side in a crunched up position you would see a child pretending to sleep in. She was in a deep sleep, curled up on the leather. I notice her shorts. A pair of black basketball shorts with the tag sticking out. Men's, XX Large. Why would she have men's shorts? Especially XX Large when she only needs a medium? Slightly above, I notice a familiar line of fabric that usually peaks out clothes when bent. Line that reads "Nike" they look like boxers. A brand new pair.

"Why the hell do you need men's basketball shorts and boxers while being a girl?" I think aloud. The sudden noise seems to wake the sleeping girl from her uncomfortable 'bed'

"Oh, hey, hi" she Groans, not even aware of her surroundings. "Where am I again?" She asks. Rubber her eyes.

"I'm taking you back home, you crashed on the sidewalk after puking out the alcohol all over my shoes."

"Oh okay." She states, then goes back to sleep.

The drive home isn't bad. A few potholes here and there, but that's what to expect in Texas. My younger sister sleeps soundly to the right of me. The sounds of her small snores are the only thing filling the void of silence in the truck.

Finnaly, we get back home and I carry her into the house. Debating wether I should take her to her room or not. She only lets the cat into her room at night and yells at us for even taking a peak. Curiosity overwhelmes my emotions and I open the door handle. A wiff of cologne hits me in the face as in met with posters of cars and animes. It's nothing like I've ever seen before. Before she started her junior year it was full of her drawings and colorful things, like her proud bookshelf that our parents wanted out of her room. The only thing the same is, the small, purple notebook on her desk with the writing "Once Upon a Time", neatly placed on in the center.

I set my sleeping sister on the bed and take a look around. Looking at the clothes she seems to have forgotten to put in the hamper, on the ground. They're my shirts. All my shirts. Old ones, new ones, what the hell? Suddenly, anger seeps out of my pores and onto my clothing that has been carelessly thrown onto the ground. No fucking wonder I can't find any of my shirts.

I collect them all off the ground and return to my room, happy with myself. But the curiosity of the purple notebook on the desk is drawing me back. Like a red string tugging on my neck. Like a fish in water that has to surrender his life to the invisble string, pulling him to his death. Probably not as dramatic but the point still stands.

I sneak into her room once again, acting like I'm a ninja. I stand before the desk and revaluate my life decisions. Am I really going to look into my sisters most private form of herself?

She shouldn't have stolen my clothes. Quickly, I open the page to the bookmark neatly placed in there and read to myself.

The page is marked with the date "June 25th" three days ago "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Is written in sloppy handwriting, almost as if she was rushing to write it. "My ribs hurt so badly. I need to throw away the ace bandages before Mikey finds them. I don't know why I decided to write in this first but my mind seems to do weird things."

The page ends like that and I flip back in time. Each movement feels dirty and rusty. The page behind the first reads "June 23rd" skipping a line and going to the next "I fucking hate everything. Everything about myself. Everything that I feel. I hate how when I look at myself I just see a pesky girl. I'll alway just be a girl. Not a boy, not a baker. Never. Just like Jacob said. God, I hate myself. Why couldn't I just be born a boy?"

I take a step back.

Born a boy?

She wants to be a boy?

Two more steps back and I rush out of the room.