jordanhadrill
I woke up one day and I didn't know who I was anymore. My personality was gone, and I had nothing left.
Nothing but a small notebook from many years ago.
I set there for half an hour, no clues to who I was before except for these words spilling across paper, rants and swears and curses and teardrops staining page after page.
And, although I didn't know what was true or not, I pieced myself together word by word until I had created myself again.
There were all sorts of mysteries in here.
Here I'd find the answers to what he really did with his time, to what occupied his thoughts. I'd sort through papers and scroll through pages and click and click and click.
My father's computer. Unlocked. All mine.
Pick me. Pick ME as his dancing partner.
Pick me.
No. Don't walk over to that side of the room. NO. Don't pick her. DON'T.
Put that hand down, woman, or I will slap you.
Please, God, please, God. I'll do anything.
Too late. She's just pointed at somebody else.
I'll be braver next time, I promise.
She catapulted downwards through the air, feeling the excitement bubble through her veins like an erupting fizzy drink.
Spinning to and fro, she looked up to smile at her friend back in the helicopter, only to find her friend tumbling through the sky without a parachute.
Love,
Lana.
No. Love was too...how I actually felt. I erased it and twirled the pencil around, trying to think of some other way to end the letter.
From,
Lana.
Too cold. Too impersonal.
Best wishes? Nah. Your friend? Absolutely not. I didn't want him to think that I just wanted to be his friend and nothing more than that.
I mean, that was what he already thought, but I didn't have to rub it in.
I peered out the window of the plane, hoping to see some sunset or some skyline or something. It had just been clouds, clouds, clouds. Plus a little lightning, just to shake things up.
(I didn't really like the lightning. But the babies loved it, I assure you.)
I'm hiding.
Hiding behind my thick makeup and my guitar. Hiding behind this crazed, stupid persona.
I scream into a microphone when really, I'm screaming at myself. At my circumstances. At the world. And then the crowd cheers, cheers at my misery, laughs at the stupid clown I have become.
We both stare at each other, thinking unspeakable words.
I'm sorry. I forgive you.
But we can't say those things. Not in front of other people, not when we're supposed to be strong and thinking about other things. Not after we already promised each other to move on.
Maybe that's just an excuse in our heads. Maybe we're just not saying the things we need to say because we're scared.
My mouth remains closed. But I know what I'm going to say, when the time is right. I've already said it in my head a million times.
I sat in the shower, the soap stinging my eyes and the steam smothering me. How could anybody truly enjoy a hot shower when all it did was scald you, burn you, just like the rest of the day?
My tears mixed with the water running down my face and disappeared forever into the drain.
"How stupid are you?!" the teacher yelled, whacking me on the back of the head. "Do you need me to simplify things to you all the time? Can't you do something by yourself for once?"
I sat quietly in my seat, wondering if it wasn't a teacher's JOB to teach things.
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