thoughts of the day

letter to

.......(caved in)........

letter to

You see, I just opened a new package of scratch pads, and this is the first one. I hate blank paper, but I love it. I am always writing, and I love new pens. A fetish, I think.
But I have this blank paper, see, and while I love it, I hate it. So many choices to be made, possibilities, so many dreams to be fulfilled. So I picked it up. Looking at it: yellow, new, pristine, familiar. And I wanted to break it in. With what? Prose is always good, but I did that to the last one, and repetition is boring. You said it... You said it today! My letters are boring. All right. A challenge. I accept. Here it is, new and exciting.

I won't put your name on this. If I killed myself right now, they would pry this out of my fingers and read it and never know who you are. Oh, that would get them. Yes, the idea of death, so inviting, mysterious... voluptuous. Ha. A challenge, for sure. A threat. But not to us, for us, for those we want to hurt deepest. It's like crying in front of ***, only so much more sever. The idea of suicide is to be played with, but only that. I'm a coward and you don't honestly believe in an afterlife. We're stuck here.
*** from group therapy. He cut himself. (You know about my jeans, right?) But he did it on his arms. They were old. Less than a week, but old. And how they itch, the surface level, sissy slices. So clean, but they itch growing back. And he scratched. I noticed. It was group, and if that comes up in group, they have to tell our parents, so we had promised each other not to talk about it. I didn't say anything, only whispers and those desperate, pathetic, pleading looks. I stormed out. The administrator chased me down and asked me why and *** came out with it. It was a sad occasion, we all cried. Lora M. came out and admitted that she had done it a while ago, *** showed us the extent of his, RJ just cursed at us all, and I... thought about showing them The Scar. I didn't. I haven't shown anyone, they only glimpse it, insignificant.
That was group. I felt better, helping them, caring about them, looking forward to seeing them all well. All week. I didn't progress, I became dependent. Then my parents stopped taking me.

[cut.]

Having convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, I started walking. I didn't stop walking, because I knew if I walked long enough, I would find him. I would see him, and I would know. I walked all morning. It was hot, I was hungry, I walked. I walked through the city, down the streets of lights and bars built before I was born, the smell of old garbage, and I didn't see him. But, having convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, I kept walking. It was dark, and cold, and my feet were two blocks of wood, and only then did I see him. I saw him, then, but he was with a girl, another girl. He was with her and having convinced myself that I was the only sane person in an insane world, I hated her. I knew that she would not let me near him, I knew that she would not like my sanity, she would try to keep me away from him, and having convinced myself, I waited. I had to follow him until she was not with him, until she could not stop me, until I could give him my sanity. My sanity. I followed him and I waited. Outside his window, late, I sat and waited. I heard them making love. She was loud, and wild, and I had convinced myself, and I hated her. The night was too thick, the banging of bed posts on walls, the fury, she screamed, hot. And then the silence, which was so much worse than her sounds, their sleep silence came and I couldn't stay there. I couldn't, but I did. Having convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, I stayed and I waited. When she left in the morning, I waited for him to leave as well, but he did not. And I waited. It was hot, and he didn't leave the house all day, and I was so hungry, my head felt so hot and so full, but I had convinced myself. And I waited. When the sun went down, his light was on, it was time. Having convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, I turned the doorknob. I had convince - I turned the doorknob. I was going to give him my sanity, it was not locked. I was going to give him my sanity, it was not locked. And I knew him, not locked, to want my sanity, he would want my sanity, and when I pulled the trigger, he did not scream, he only closed his eyes, red, the door. The door. The door, I had convinced myself, and he took my, the door, my sanity, the door.
The door was not locked, if the door had been loc-

[cut.]

Wyatt said so. I asked him if I could be an angel if I tried hard enough. He said that I already am an angel, and that I would meet someone who would see that. Prophetic. At first, it made me very sad. I would not become an angel, but I thought about it, and now...
Am I an angel? Do you think that I'm an angel?

[cut.]

There was a rumbling in my chest and I could not tell if it was me or a passing plane. It was a plane.

[cut.]

Upon personal reflection, I do it too much. But in a way, it's difficult not to. And to be.
The thing that I hate most about myself is that I am so weak. I am in a continual state of fear and worry. I think I have an ulcer, it's that bad, and I can't stop. I can't sleep, I just worry. And I try to write, but I'm afraid. What if I get a bad score on the SAT? What if I don't pass the AP exams? What if during the tests I have to sneeze? What if in the fall I still don't know which college I want to go to? What if I don't get accepted? What if I fail a class? What if I fall down the stairs at school? What if I'm too tired to get up the stairs? What if *** goes away to finish college in the fall? What if I can't get over this suicide thing? What if I'm too lonely to keep breathing? What if I'll never be an angel? What if God isn't for everyone? What if God does not forgive? What if *** is...

[cut.]

He did not scream. Red, I gave him my sanity and he was on the walls, the floor, my hands, red. The door. The door was unlocked. I gave him my sanity, and having convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, I also knew that they would take him from me, they would come. The would come, so I laid with him and waited. I held him, and the broken pieces, red, he was broken, but I had given him my sanity, and I had convinced myself. I tried not to look at his broken pieces, red, I didn't touch my hands. I held him until he was cold and sticky, red and black, I tried no to look, I tried not to move him, I tried not to look at his caved in parts, I tried not to look at his broken pieces, I wouldn't move him, but I had convinced myself. I was shaking, I was the one sane person in an insane world, my head, I had given him, caved in, my sanity, waited, I had convinced myself. I had given him my sanity, and I knew. I knew that they would come and take him away from me, I knew, I had convinced myself that I was the one sane person in an insane world, and when they came, the did take me away from him, sticky, black, they did take him away, but I had given him my sanity, they would not keep us apart, my sanity, I had convinced myself. I was the one sane person in an insane -

[cut.]

"We're too young for it not to come back," he said to me concerning inspiration. And he was right, because that was the end of freshman year, two years ago, my God, time flies (17).
It was all right. It was love. Intensity. That was real love, I think. The kind of love that only comes when we're young, you know? Intense. That's what makes me so sad. For you. I know you don't want that. I know you want to be the stoic, the martyr, impervious, pure, devoid. I know that you want to be free of that, but you're missing so much. Maybe it's better to be free of emotions, but emotions are my drug, I'm addicted, why do you think I'm so melodramatic? To have feeling, to feel. The sadness and the glory of lying naked in the desert next to him and looking at Las Vegas starless skies (skies for naught? the smell of desert flowers is so much more alluring than he could ever be, but I feel that).
For all the heavens, I wish you happiness.

pssst! I prayed for you. But don't tell anyone, ok? I prayed... for you...

[cut.]

And now the nightmares are all that I have. The do not understand, they did not like my sanity, I had convinced myself, I was the one sane person in an insane world, they do not understand and they locked me here, they wil not let me out, I had convinced myself. And now just the nightmares, alone, here, in the dark. Just the nightmares. Alone. In the dark. The one sane person.
This is an insane world.

yours

previous thoughts of the day

ARCHIVES

poetry
omnipotent eulogy
short stories and other literary works
about me
tuba town
links

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page