An Old Writing:The Water
Aug 13, 2007
The water, the life, the cleanser, the way of the right . . .
She thinks as she lays flat in her troubles of the bathtub, she thinks about all she gone through . . . every guy she ever liked and how they never liked her back.
They either thought her as one of the guys, or in their own silent way wished she didn’t exist.
They never had to tell her, for she knew the talk that was going on behind her back . . . the whispering piercing her spine, slicing her heart and serving it on a sliver platter. Their eyes filled with fear as all she could do was watch them, and not to know their every move, but see if they were reality there. Deep within the souls of their eyes, they has wishes on tear drops that would never fall . . . wishes that she would stop staring, that she would just go away . . .
Just go away.
As the cold water from the tub immerses her body she thinks, soon you’ll have your wish.
She was never like them; she was different.
They were thin, and beauty, and she was fat and ugly well at least her eyes. The water was clear, but her soul was cloudy and fuzzy like stretched cotton.
They hate me. They fear me.
I’m different. They’re all alike. They’re all against me!
I tried to put others first. I tried to be like them.
I wanted my opinions hear. She just wanted her dreams to come true.
She just wanted . . . just one person to love the way she loved them. Their hearts are purple, while mine is red. I will never fit in. . . Never fit in. . . Never fit in.
The water rushes over her face.
She closes her eyes. And just lets the water let her fit in.
Poetic Words
I feel
Mar. 28th, 2007
I feel ugly. I feel sad. I feel hated.
I feel worst than old gum stuck on the bottom of a shitty shoe.
I feel used. I feel left behind. I feel like hell isn’t a good enough for me.
I feel like I could sit in stomach acid and not die, live in pure pain.
I feel cold. I feel stiff. I feel old.
I feel like I’m falling in a black pit while everyone is laughing at me as I go down.
I feel pain. I feel depressed. I feel fat.
I feel my identity is lost within the list of number that i don’t I am as I tried to look while I turn blind.
I feel guilt. I feel worthless. I feel nothing.
I feel exhausted pounding within my skull as I want to pull out my teeth than finish my thought.
I feel stupid. I feel alone. I feel native.
I feel pushed over the hill with arrows of sharp regret with me as I struggle to feel the arrows even more.
I feel selfish. I feel empty. I feel pitiful.
I feel my spirit drain into paper as I am careless to remember where I put it.
I feel silent. I feel fearful. I feel stubborn.
I feel pain as clench my teeth in hope that something will happen– time stops.
I feel anger. I feel disloyalty. I feel carelessness.
I feel rage as I want to scream, but silence comes out.
I feel blackness. I feel release. I feel nothing.
I feel an awkward peace as times stops over my spirits– all is gone– I’ve given up!
