I like to think that I make a difference.
I'm not sure where or for whom, but I just want to make someone's life better. I may sound more than a bit naive, but I really believe that I can change someone's life.
I wonder if anyone truly understands how much power we truly hold.
I think that the smallest decision can make or break someone's future.
I wanted to help. I wanted to help everyone.
I started simply with a smile and a "Hello."
Friday, April 16, 2010
Saying Goodnight
I can see myself lying in bed. Still, and lifeless.
I look peaceful, like I've finally done the one thing that I've always planned on. I finally followed through with a plan.
On both of my arms is the word Worthless in bold black. On the wall behind me, in my own hand, the words, "I am not perfect," are scrawled on the wall in large messy black letters. I can envision myself writing them on the wall in big black sharpie, trying my best to let the words be a metaphor of of my own repulsing imperfection.
Then I take a small piece of paper, just a notebook paper from an unfinished homework assignment, and I tear it in half and write on the blank half.
I have a safety pin ready and I pin my two word note to my shirt, turn on some of my favorite music to comfort myself, and lay in bed. I take a moment to just breathe and try to see myself through someone else's eyes as they open my bedroom door and take in the sight of me. I selfishly revel in the terrible beauty of it all as I grab the pills from my nightstand and pour handful after handful into my mouth.
I sigh with relief as I feel sleep creeping in on me from my lower back. I check the note that I pinned to my shirt and start to cry. I read the note aloud over and over until I can't stay awake any longer.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Telling someone they're worthless, that they will go nowhere in life, and that they are nothing but a failure will never end well.
I had never hated anyone. Not until I hated myself.
I stare in the mirror angrily. I ask myself question after question, "Why? Why was I given you? Why am I a monster? Why don't I mean anything?"
So then I started to plan.
Don't act like I'm selfish, or stupid, or that I didn't ask for help.
I was so happy, so sure... before I became what I am.
I called for help at every turning moment and I was ignored. No one ever believed me. I loved them all so much and I didn't want to hurt them and I... I wanted to get better. I wanted to be happy again.
But I just can't take it anymore.
Goodnight. I love you and I'm sorry, but sleep is all that I have left.
I look peaceful, like I've finally done the one thing that I've always planned on. I finally followed through with a plan.
On both of my arms is the word Worthless in bold black. On the wall behind me, in my own hand, the words, "I am not perfect," are scrawled on the wall in large messy black letters. I can envision myself writing them on the wall in big black sharpie, trying my best to let the words be a metaphor of of my own repulsing imperfection.
Then I take a small piece of paper, just a notebook paper from an unfinished homework assignment, and I tear it in half and write on the blank half.
I have a safety pin ready and I pin my two word note to my shirt, turn on some of my favorite music to comfort myself, and lay in bed. I take a moment to just breathe and try to see myself through someone else's eyes as they open my bedroom door and take in the sight of me. I selfishly revel in the terrible beauty of it all as I grab the pills from my nightstand and pour handful after handful into my mouth.
I sigh with relief as I feel sleep creeping in on me from my lower back. I check the note that I pinned to my shirt and start to cry. I read the note aloud over and over until I can't stay awake any longer.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Telling someone they're worthless, that they will go nowhere in life, and that they are nothing but a failure will never end well.
I had never hated anyone. Not until I hated myself.
I stare in the mirror angrily. I ask myself question after question, "Why? Why was I given you? Why am I a monster? Why don't I mean anything?"
So then I started to plan.
Don't act like I'm selfish, or stupid, or that I didn't ask for help.
I was so happy, so sure... before I became what I am.
I called for help at every turning moment and I was ignored. No one ever believed me. I loved them all so much and I didn't want to hurt them and I... I wanted to get better. I wanted to be happy again.
But I just can't take it anymore.
Goodnight. I love you and I'm sorry, but sleep is all that I have left.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
C'est La Vie
"He doesn't speak. You're not acknowledged here."
I stared at my father for a long moment. He didn't even react to my mother's words. What kind of family is this? I'm all but ignored. The sound of poker chips fills the room from his lap top and still no reaction, I decide that it's best not to say anything. A full family dinner without word from my dad. He sat at the table with us, but he wasn't really there. In his mind he was somewhere in Vegas with his mistress. Smoke, alcohol, gambling...
I felt more than sick, but my father had a knack for making me ill. The TV was on, it was always on, I never paid much attention anymore to what was really on it. I tried harder and harder with each day to make some sort of connection with my family. My brother was glued to the TV, my father to his laptop, and my mother was too busy trying to make us happy to really notice. I watched as she scrambled about... She deserved better. I got up, took my full plate to the sink, and left it there. I disappeared into my room and shut the door, no one would notice my absence.
I pushed play on my ipod and collapsed on my bed. I wasn't a fan of silence. I played music whenever I got the chance, mostly when I was alone. I wondered what it was like to have a family. I wondered what it was like to have a home. I wondered what it was like to live in a world where such a thing as True Love existed. What a beautiful, horrible place that must be.
I stared at my father for a long moment. He didn't even react to my mother's words. What kind of family is this? I'm all but ignored. The sound of poker chips fills the room from his lap top and still no reaction, I decide that it's best not to say anything. A full family dinner without word from my dad. He sat at the table with us, but he wasn't really there. In his mind he was somewhere in Vegas with his mistress. Smoke, alcohol, gambling...
I felt more than sick, but my father had a knack for making me ill. The TV was on, it was always on, I never paid much attention anymore to what was really on it. I tried harder and harder with each day to make some sort of connection with my family. My brother was glued to the TV, my father to his laptop, and my mother was too busy trying to make us happy to really notice. I watched as she scrambled about... She deserved better. I got up, took my full plate to the sink, and left it there. I disappeared into my room and shut the door, no one would notice my absence.
I pushed play on my ipod and collapsed on my bed. I wasn't a fan of silence. I played music whenever I got the chance, mostly when I was alone. I wondered what it was like to have a family. I wondered what it was like to have a home. I wondered what it was like to live in a world where such a thing as True Love existed. What a beautiful, horrible place that must be.
Friday, October 23, 2009
True Love Is a Dream 1
Snow, snow everywhere and not a care in the world.
I wander about the room, taking in familiar faces, and some that I don't recognize. Everything smells like Spring, it's the flowers and scented candles delicately pieced together as each centerpiece. Melinda didn't get to have the dream Springtime wedding that she always told me she'd have. Instead, here we are in the dead of winter cramped into Melinda's wealthy parent's tacky "clubhouse's" dining hall with fake smiles plastered on our faces at a forced, and rushed, shotgun wedding. The silverware is real silver, the champagne glasses are real crystal glass.
Kudos for getting knocked up, Mel. Kudos.
I hate weddings, I always have and God knows that I always will. It is my personal belief that wedding are a persons was of saying, "Praise me! I have just entered into a life of eternal damnation and I want nothing more than to make you suffer along with me!" Misery loves its company. No need for me to celebrate my cousin's short-term happiness, we never got along anyway. I contemplate leaving.
Melinda is eighteen, exactly seven months older than myself. Somehow she managed to graduate a year early from high school, a feat that I will never understand. I suspect that her father bribed the school. I live in Melinda's shadow, she only went to my school for her freshman and sophmore years before her parents dragged her out of public school and forced her into some expensive private school for her last year, but in Melinda's two years at Hawthorne High she managed to make herself a legend among the students and the teachers. Ruthless party girl by night, polite but false overachiever by day. Melinda Crane and I share a last name, but we have nothing in common. My name is Zoey Crane, it's a simple name, but it's different and I like that.
I sit down awkwardly at an empty table and take in my surroundings. I'm at the side of the room; the center is absent of tables to create a dancefloor. I watch the dancers, they're entertaining enough. More than a few people are embarrassing themselves. One man is dirty dancing in a way that is worse than watching the latest slutty one-hit-wonder blonde bimbo in concert, something that I hadn't thought possible until now. I take my eyes off of him and scan the rest of the crowd, not willing to watch him any longer for fear of going completely blind. There's an older couple slow dancing despite the fast tempo of the music, they provide a strong contrast to the middle aged man who was dancing like a female stripper only five feet away from them. I feel warm when I see them, glad to see love between such an old couple, but maybe it was just the heat of the room. Snow wizzed fiercely outside. It was a sauna inside, but a blizzard outside.
Tick.
My heart stops and everything freezes. I saw him there in the crowd, looking... looking at me? He's with Melinda's spoiled sixteen-year-old sister, Christine. We look at eachother for a long aching moment before I finally break the stare, jumping out of my seat.
Tock.
The room speeds up as I dash out the doors into the snow to cool down. I can finally breathe again. The icey air stings my lungs lovingly with each breath.
I close my eyes and I see his face. Danny Diamond; the love of my life. I go through the alphabet from Z to A in my head to forget him. My heart slows and I look up at the black sky, letting the snow carress my cheeks.
"He really did get to you."
I turn in one swift motion to look at the person talking to me. It's Kitty Crane, the only decent of Melinda's sisters and perhaps the most beautiful. Her green eyes sparkle despite the lack of light, she's the only member of the family with green eyes. I've always wondered if her mother had an affair that resulted in Kitty. She looked nothing like the man who was said to be her father.
I didn't say anything.
"He's not worth it," she said plainly after a long silence. I looked at her for a long moment, she had no idea what she was talking about.
I went back to the reception without saying a word.
Kitty was different from her sisters. She was genuinely beautiful in her innocence. She's been attending private school from the moment she was old enough to enroll, and of her own free will. She's seventeen, her birthday isn't far from mine, but often times she seems much younger. It must be her small size.
I wander aimlessly around the building. There's some strange unmarked rooms. I decided to explore, trying my best to avoid seeing Danny and Chrissie together. The first few places I investigated are uninteresting until I find a room with a large bean bag, a couch, and a love seat. I plummet face first into the beat bag without bothering to turn on the lights.
Today is Saturday, on Monday I will start all new classes. Somehow my counselor at school managed to change my schedule completely in the middle of second quarter.
I drift to sleep. I don't know what time it is, or how long I've asleep when I wake up. I feel groggy and I wonder if my parents have left me here to fade into nothing. I hear giggles and the door opens, the light from the hallway blinds me until it shuts. I blink, willing my eyes to adjust in the darkness. More giggles. I can see the outline of two people now, a male and a female. Kissing noises. I feel sick to my stomach. They move closer to me and I move out of the way just as he tackles her onto the bean bag in a way that looks boarderline pornographic in the darkness. They either haven't noticed me or they just don't care. I move sleepily to the light switch and flick it on. I immediately wish that I hadn't.
I wander about the room, taking in familiar faces, and some that I don't recognize. Everything smells like Spring, it's the flowers and scented candles delicately pieced together as each centerpiece. Melinda didn't get to have the dream Springtime wedding that she always told me she'd have. Instead, here we are in the dead of winter cramped into Melinda's wealthy parent's tacky "clubhouse's" dining hall with fake smiles plastered on our faces at a forced, and rushed, shotgun wedding. The silverware is real silver, the champagne glasses are real crystal glass.
Kudos for getting knocked up, Mel. Kudos.
I hate weddings, I always have and God knows that I always will. It is my personal belief that wedding are a persons was of saying, "Praise me! I have just entered into a life of eternal damnation and I want nothing more than to make you suffer along with me!" Misery loves its company. No need for me to celebrate my cousin's short-term happiness, we never got along anyway. I contemplate leaving.
Melinda is eighteen, exactly seven months older than myself. Somehow she managed to graduate a year early from high school, a feat that I will never understand. I suspect that her father bribed the school. I live in Melinda's shadow, she only went to my school for her freshman and sophmore years before her parents dragged her out of public school and forced her into some expensive private school for her last year, but in Melinda's two years at Hawthorne High she managed to make herself a legend among the students and the teachers. Ruthless party girl by night, polite but false overachiever by day. Melinda Crane and I share a last name, but we have nothing in common. My name is Zoey Crane, it's a simple name, but it's different and I like that.
I sit down awkwardly at an empty table and take in my surroundings. I'm at the side of the room; the center is absent of tables to create a dancefloor. I watch the dancers, they're entertaining enough. More than a few people are embarrassing themselves. One man is dirty dancing in a way that is worse than watching the latest slutty one-hit-wonder blonde bimbo in concert, something that I hadn't thought possible until now. I take my eyes off of him and scan the rest of the crowd, not willing to watch him any longer for fear of going completely blind. There's an older couple slow dancing despite the fast tempo of the music, they provide a strong contrast to the middle aged man who was dancing like a female stripper only five feet away from them. I feel warm when I see them, glad to see love between such an old couple, but maybe it was just the heat of the room. Snow wizzed fiercely outside. It was a sauna inside, but a blizzard outside.
Tick.
My heart stops and everything freezes. I saw him there in the crowd, looking... looking at me? He's with Melinda's spoiled sixteen-year-old sister, Christine. We look at eachother for a long aching moment before I finally break the stare, jumping out of my seat.
Tock.
The room speeds up as I dash out the doors into the snow to cool down. I can finally breathe again. The icey air stings my lungs lovingly with each breath.
I close my eyes and I see his face. Danny Diamond; the love of my life. I go through the alphabet from Z to A in my head to forget him. My heart slows and I look up at the black sky, letting the snow carress my cheeks.
"He really did get to you."
I turn in one swift motion to look at the person talking to me. It's Kitty Crane, the only decent of Melinda's sisters and perhaps the most beautiful. Her green eyes sparkle despite the lack of light, she's the only member of the family with green eyes. I've always wondered if her mother had an affair that resulted in Kitty. She looked nothing like the man who was said to be her father.
I didn't say anything.
"He's not worth it," she said plainly after a long silence. I looked at her for a long moment, she had no idea what she was talking about.
I went back to the reception without saying a word.
Kitty was different from her sisters. She was genuinely beautiful in her innocence. She's been attending private school from the moment she was old enough to enroll, and of her own free will. She's seventeen, her birthday isn't far from mine, but often times she seems much younger. It must be her small size.
I wander aimlessly around the building. There's some strange unmarked rooms. I decided to explore, trying my best to avoid seeing Danny and Chrissie together. The first few places I investigated are uninteresting until I find a room with a large bean bag, a couch, and a love seat. I plummet face first into the beat bag without bothering to turn on the lights.
Today is Saturday, on Monday I will start all new classes. Somehow my counselor at school managed to change my schedule completely in the middle of second quarter.
I drift to sleep. I don't know what time it is, or how long I've asleep when I wake up. I feel groggy and I wonder if my parents have left me here to fade into nothing. I hear giggles and the door opens, the light from the hallway blinds me until it shuts. I blink, willing my eyes to adjust in the darkness. More giggles. I can see the outline of two people now, a male and a female. Kissing noises. I feel sick to my stomach. They move closer to me and I move out of the way just as he tackles her onto the bean bag in a way that looks boarderline pornographic in the darkness. They either haven't noticed me or they just don't care. I move sleepily to the light switch and flick it on. I immediately wish that I hadn't.
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