Her mother had died last spring from cancer and her father was just never there to answer. She tossed and turned almost every night knowing her life was a disaster. She didn't know what to do or how to feel. She felt numb and so unreal. She felt as if her heart was lost singing in a far away song. A song that her mother once filled but was now full of nothing but sorrow which kept her from looking to her tomorrow. She went to school, then pretty soon college, still attaining no real knowledge but how could she when she never was really there. Months passed, then years, life went on even though her everything was gone. It was the same dull day when she got up from bed and began her nonexistent way. It was dark when she left the school building. As she was walking to her car an unfamiliar object suddenly hit her face, not nearly scaring her as much as his voice. He mumbled something incoherently and snatched her purse as he quickly disappeared. Baffled and dizzy she got up from the ground and quickly shoved herself inside her car and locked the door. She drove home as the rain poured down and thunder began. Still she hit nothing less of a hundred. As she pulled into her driveway and parked her car she finally felt something, fear. It brought her to overwhelming tears. She cried and cried until she couldn't breathe and when her car was flooded with her tears she opened the door and ran inside. As she ran upstairs she felt something on her shoe but she didn't stop until she reached her room. As she looked down and pulled the plastic bag away from the bottom of her shoe she saw what it was and wasn't fooled. She looked at the plant in distaste. It had something else in it, it looked like pills. " The druggie has lost his next deal," she spat at herself. She threw it away in her trashcan and mournfully crawled into bed. She couldn't sleep something was wrong, then she got up and washed her face. Something smelled out of place, she looked all around and her eyes met the trashcan. She peered inside and grabbed the roll of moss. She went back to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet but then she remembered the lighter in her cabinet. She grabbed it and rolled up the weed, she didn't know how but it was too late now. She opened her window and lit up the blunt, the first puff and she coughed her lungs out but she kept going never truly knowing. After two blunts and a pill it was all down-hill. She felt like vomiting and did just that; she needed water but was too high to bother. Then something happened, she began to cease to think, it was like she was floating on air, she felt nothing and that meant everything. She finished off the pot and the pills, soon after her world turning black. She woke up two days later feeling weird not because of what she did but because of what she knew she would do. She went downtown late that night and brought most of her savings with her. She went deep into the darkest ally she could find, she wasn't scared just a bit teared. She found him at the corner and just came out with what she wanted. "I want to feel happy, I want to feel nothing," she said to him in a hoarse tone. He looked at her and smiled maniacally. He didn't say a word just opened up his coat. She was amazed at the same time dazed. All this stuff existed she asked herself and if it did why didn't she know? She didn't know what to do and just stared. After a while the dealer started picking through his vast array of poisons. He thrust needles and bottles of liquids at her and gave her a bottle of pills. He grabbed her money without asking and told her to leave. Bewildered, she went home that night. She set her newfound prizes in a neat little row on her bed. Her eye caught the needle and instantly she knew what she would do. She felt numb and didn't feel the poke of the needle as she injected it into her arm. A few seconds later she was long gone. Months passed and she was a regular at the corner of the dark alley. She knew it was wrong but she honestly didn't care, as long as the pain was gone she could bear. Winter came, and spring passed, summer was a breeze, and fall was last. She went on with her way of life and found she could cope until one day this boy came around and gave her hope. She realized that drugs weren't her last resort. After months of stalking her she finally gave in and when she did she left the pill. She found happiness and light again. She was really in love with him. A year passed and she was clean and then she found out they were to be married. Darkness was gone and light showered in until one day when he was away. She was cleaning her room when she felt something taped under her desk. She pulled it out and it was a rather large needle. She forgot this one when she was clean; it was in one of her thousands of hiding places. She wanted so badly to throw it away but she just couldn't make herself put it astray. It would be a waste she thought to herself and one last hit wouldn't mean anything. There was a lot in the bottle but it wasn't anything she couldn't hit up or swallow. It was strong and kind of old but this would be the last of her cold. She pulled up her sleeve and felt the insertion followed by her own weak assertion. At the same time she heard the door open and footsteps coming up the stairs, she quickly pulled the needle away and ran to meet him there. As he opened the door and embraced her, her heart had already lost the race and " I love you" was written all over her dead face.
Beautiful Memories
What do I think is beautiful? Hmmm, that's a hard question seeing that I find almost everything beautiful. The gift of life and living is beautiful. What it really depends on though is what the definition of beautiful is. If it is perfection then I don't think any thing is beautiful because I don't believe in perfection. But if it's the way he laughs even though he's really hurt inside, or if it's the way he smiles even though he really wants to cry. Or the way he's so selfless and caring, the way he comforts me when I cry, the way his shoulders are always there to lean on. The way he laughs at my stupid jokes, the way he encourages me to be the best. The way he lifts me up when I fall or the way he protects me. The way he as a human can have so much love in his heart, the way he strives for the best. The way he talks, the way he walks, especially the way he sleeps. The way he always seems to make me smile or the way he always seems to swallow my tears and take away my sorrow. The way he laughs and calls me beautiful. The way he moves my hair away from my face or the way he zips up the back of my dress when I'm in a haste. The way he paints my toenails or tries to help me apply blush. The way he eats my bad cooking and does a really good job of acting like he likes it. The way he watches me when I sleep when he thinks I'm actually asleep. The way he kisses my forehead and the way he looks up in a shy way when I'm angry. The way he hugs me when I'm mad at him or the way he gives in to my kisses when he's mad at me. The way that he would put himself in danger in a heartbeat to save me and the way he hurts when he sees me in pain. The way he loved me. What do I think is beautiful? I think his memories are beautiful.
Stolen Heart
You smile, laugh, and nod your way through. The day is finally over and so is your act. You walk home under the trees stepping on all of the autumn leaves. Even though it's light you feel dark. As your walking the tears spill down your cheeks and suddenly you can't breathe. You want to remove the imaginary hand that's clasping your throat shut but at the same time you want it to finish its job. You keep walking and you're home, you go inside and sit in front of the mirror. You look at yourself and wonder why and as if some unstoppable force keeps hurting you, you finally breakdown and begin to cry. You cry your eyes out and then you get up. The world is a blur; you don't really know anyone or anything. You don't need to eat or sleep because your mind is too preoccupied within its own depth and you don't know anything else. Your mind is on a one-track path, all you know is one thing. Why did he leave? It doesn't matter because he's gone. You go to bed and pretend to sleep. Your engrossed in your thoughts and you stare up at the ceiling until the clock tells you to get up. Then you go on with your thoughts and begin your day. Your there physically but mentally your lost in that one thought; he's gone. You realize you're alone. Now you're afraid. Things happen and life goes on. Well it should go on. But not in your case because you loved so truly and deeply that your wound would never heal. What's the point of anything because someone stole your heart and now they are gone.
The Best
89.3 in honors English.
89.7 in chemistry.
Always one point of f or in this case point one.
There's always someone better, always someone the best.
If only I had done this or that maybe I would've gotten that job, that part in the play, or that grade.
Maybe If I had cleaned my room or done more chores my parents would have let me go.
Maybe if I hadn't said that she would still be my friend.
Always in the middle never on top.
Always pushed down never encouraged.
Ten points above but one point below, meaning there's someone better, someone the best.
Teachers, parents, friends always say you can do better but what if what you did was your best.
It's not good enough because there's always someone better, always someone the best.
But what if one day you gave it your all and it was your best and even though you knew or you were told that someone was better you couldn't care less because you knew that you tried your hardest, you strived, and that was your best.
A wise person once told me that there's no such thing as perfection because no one is the same and everyone is different.
One man's trash might be another man's treasure.
Then one day I realized that perfection is just a mere opinion, nothing more.
So who's the best?
There's no such thing because as long as you gave it your all you did your best and nothing else matters.
Whatever they say you know who you are and what you can do and how much you've tried and if you tried your best, nothing else matters, nonetheless.
When you don't give up, that is your best.
One Day
What if you could only live for one day and you'd die the next?
What if you could be anything you wanted to be?
I know what I'd be; a butterfly.
I would be born, fall in love, and have thousands of babies all in one day.
Most important I'd travel the world and at the end of the day, land in the perfect spot.
I would die where I wanted in the most perfect way.
Slowly, my beauty will go away.
Even though I had one day it was more than I could say.
Because I'd rather have one day go my way than a lifetime be astray.
What if I could live only for one day?
Then, I'd live and be more than okay.
0 comments:
Post a Comment