Ha, You’re Sad


Happiness is
Just your good
Punishment in disguise
Yep, I’m your ugly
Karma right now
Aren’t I?
I’m probably right how
Many times have you
Been so uncomprehendingly happy, been
In love or had a new job or had money,
And nobody knew what
To even do with being happy?
So everybody just lost everything because
They couldn’t get their bearings in time?
Happens
People just don’t know what
To do with 
Themselves
That’s why there are starter marriages
And credit card maxes
And psychiatric wards
Been there
Be there
So people if you know
What’s good for
You stop being happy
It’s killing the rest of us
I’m personally on my way out
Be miserable if you have to
Keeping it clean and submitting
To your queen
Whatever he was meaning

Record This #6


Well, see dear it’s

Not quite all that simple

I’m afraid all this

Holding back and

Letting go

Business

We hurt each other

We may very well hate each other

For awhile

But we’re unfortunately not in a good state to get rid of one another

So we hold back, we do

It’s all we do

All we ever did

Why we never were in the first place

If we ever were

My Big Girl Decision


Grandma & I

I’ve thought about it all day today. I’m supposed to go down to Charlottesville to see my grandmother for the last time- and I’m not gonna do it.

It just didn’t make any sense to me. I don’t want to ruin her for myself. She can always be the batshit lady I remember from the 4th of July fireworks, not the catatonic lump in palliative care nobody else knows, either. I’m going for my sister and my mother(my mother’s falling apart), but I just don’t need to go in for me.

The downer about not remembering the first decade of your life is you don’t remember things you should. Supposedly my grandmother lived with me for three months straight when I couldn’t go back to 1st grade after chemo, because my immune system was so weak. I have pictures of her and I when she took me across the country to the Grand Canyon when I was 9, but I don’t remember that either. I just know it happened. She probably doesn’t remember it either.

But the last time I saw her- man, was she wicked. She was angry and snarky and bitchy for an hour or upset and crying the next. We resorted to slipping her my Valium on the last couple days. Mostly we just kept her drunk. But I do remember she saw I had this one purple dress on, and she just loved it for some reason and kept talking about it and talking about it endlessly. By the end of the day I ended up giving it to her (I mean, I knew I’d get it back- I have it now), and I just couldn’t stand how happy it made her. It was so stupid. And she was so funny, she said the funniest things. She picked on everyone. She never liked my sense of humor but she did then. We came home to my aunt’s farm then, and she had my drive her to the store (my grandma hasn’t driven in three years), and she went right up to a cashier and asked him if he was free this Friday night. Yep. Not even joking.

You know, I don’t care if she never remembers that. Or if she was ever aware of doing any of it. It’s a pretty good place to leave off.

That photo is probably the last one taken of us this past July 4th.

All Blind


                I focus on the traffic lights. I can see easily which one is lit, my light perception was never damaged in the accident or the accidents after it or whatever I am allowed to call them nowadays, but paying attention is sometimes a problem. Sometimes I get confused. I ask why is everyone still moving?

                People move a lot.

                The worst is being the first car in line, when I’m supposed to be the first to go. I try to depend on the cars going the other way to slow down first, but even they don’t help much. Always one guy runs it and I get scared. And then there’s right-turn lanes. Fuck those up the ass.

                That is everything I am. Right now. Scared to go first. Scared to be alone. To have no one to get me out. I am the only one in the car now.

In theory, I suppose I could call my brother or my dad or even my best friend and someone wouldn’t hesitate to talk me through the whole drive from DC to Cocoa Beach. Take an Adderall and suffer through for me. Took all this mess of a business for them to realize they owe me one just one little favor- to help me find a whole new life. All I ask nowadays.

                My mother’s depression was always a very grey area for my family. Very grey. I was colorblind to it more than anything I had ever seen with my own eyes. I think Zayne being born was what set it all in a fast downward slope. Some sort of PTSD mothering thing. There’s a name for it somewhere. She lost herself. Drank. Picked up smoking. The pills. The men that weren’t Daddy.

Even dead and gone, I still don’t know what happened to her. I guess in a way, it kinda sits in me that I can die one day now and ask her why. That could make sense.

Right?

I think I really lost sympathy for her when Zayne turned three and I’d been illegally employed by a family friend since I was thirteen. She hadn’t hugged me since he was six months old. I’d been contemplating whether that bothered me or not.

                She caused the accidents, but I never really told people that. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted her to be sick so bad. For her to not be in control of it. I would’ve given anything. She would go crazy, on medicated rampages, and Zayne and I would have to leave the house for days and hide in her friend’s spare bedroom until she cooled off and accused us of running away. Not like she had called the cops. I’m still contemplating if I ever wanted her to.

                But one of the accidents is the reason I went colorblind. And I went colorblind and now I’m afraid to drive. I’m afraid, period.

                When I was six, I had been doing dishes and standing on a kitchen chair. It was the last year Daddy lived with us.

My mom came home spitting mad after gambling (AKA losing), her clothes thrown up on and ripped and rumpled, and I could smell her from where she stood. I knew from that second nothing would go well that day.

My dad stood, said hello as if nothing had ever taken place and she looked positively lovely. She told him to piss off.

I forget all of what happened in the next few minutes, but I do know my mother shattered one of the glasses in the sink so hard that shards flew into my corneas. It’s a miracle I didn’t bleed to death just from that, a doctor had told me. Damage to my retinas or whatever they were was irreparable. I was lucky I wasn’t blind.

I don’t ever call it lucky. I call that God made a mistake in letting the condom break. I’m contemplating forgiving Him.

I can’t afford to hate my mom for everything she’s done, particularly her being turned to a fine powder now and all. It’s a waste of time and space and energy. I don’t have enough energy in me to waste it hating her for living an effing talkie film, for just now returning to a normal weight, for the scoliosis and yeah, yeah, yeahs. It would depress me too much to count.

 I think I can live with Daddy. If I want it to work then it can, right? Things are supposed to work like that. Anyway, Zayne’s fifteen now, it’s only three more years and then we can leave and never see Daddy again, either. We can still be better than them. We still have time, kiddo. Don’t give up yet.

“Please don’t give up on me, sweetie.” I whisper to the steering wheel. “You and I are it. It’s just part of the adventure.” That kid did not cry once when he came home. He did not shrug, did not whimper, he did not give a crap. It was like he didn’t have a mother to start with, and this was some rodent hanging from the shower curtain.

Jesus Christ, I love that boy. God, protect him. I’m doing a shitty job. He never loved his mom. Help me.

                Tears run down my cheeks again, and I wipe them away nervously. They get even blurrier. Sometimes I wish to all hell I really were blind. Like now, so I wouldn’t have to make this drive all alone. But I had to go and be all brave, now didn’t I?

                Finally I pull over right on the shoulder, not even far off Fredericksburg. I fold myself up into a ball in my seat and roll up the windows, turn off the car and go full blind a while. I’m still contemplating calling someone.

Strangers On A Train


We’ve just always been those kinda strangers
Meeting on trains and
What doesn’t kill us we
Whine about it later
Because
Nothing can convince you
To break down and be mine
Again
So the ten-dollar question, love
How many knives
Do you have to drive through my heart
To tear us farther apart
Just walk away from me like normal people bleed
They say it comes rather naturally 
Love, I just
Know that’s not
Me

How To Hate And Still Sleep At Night


I don't know how to hate you
As much as it would really delight me
But that would just make me
Love you once again, wouldn’t it?
Tricky bastard
I could force you into saying you hate me
Threaten your life on it, maybe
Your best friend’s
Just think of how nice it would be because 
You just might be meant for me
And that’s rather scary
Love, just stay and see.
And I don’t know
What anyone or anything
Told you but
We are really quite in
Black and white and
Don’t let anyone
Fool you heaven
Isn’t exactly in the scenery and
I know I don't deserve this
So I really don't expect it
But I might as well confess
It'd really be nice to be missed
So yeah, it might be a short little thrill
But I’ll never really hate you

Being A Good Whiner


Happiness is
Just your good
Punishment in disguise
Yeah, I sound like
A total pessimist bitch but
I’m probably right how
Many times have you
Been so uncomprehendingly happy, been
In love or had a new job or had money,
And nobody knew what
The fuck to even do?
So everybody just lost everything because
They couldn’t get their bearings in time?
Happens
People just don’t know what
To do with 
Themselves
That’s why there are starter marriages
And credit card maxes
And psychiatric wards
Been there
Be there
So people if you know
What’s good for
You stop being happy
It’s killing the rest of us
I’m personally on my way out
Be miserable if you have to
Just stop

Worst


What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?

And if it’s not your grandfather dying just because everybody else cried at the funeral I’m not going to be the one to judge, I swear, but think about something you regret. That’s all I can think about right now. And it’s a really long story for being so young, I’m pretty horrified with myself.