Xray

We get these intense and liberating spur of the moment feelings that we are invincible. We are the select few that will go out in style and make a name for ourselves. We come and go. We sit and ponder. We wilt and we die a little bit for the sake of living. We unleash our inner demons on each other. We play good cop, bad cop with our loved ones. We make mistakes but take them back. We learn the hard way, not the smart way. We choose the road less traveled, (or at least we like to think so). We make master plans. We can’t wait to get out and leave these tattered roads behind us. We get drunk, fuck up, and repeat. We promised we’d never do these things. We promised we’d always be intertwined. We always said we have time on our side. Distance is the only oncoming enemy. We fondle, hook up, and look back on all the guys along the way. Don’t you get it? We ARE invincible. No one can stop us. Just like our favorite songs said. Let’s salvage what’s left and scream while our lungs still produce oxygen. I’ve got your hand, if you’ve got mine.

Old rays.

I’m scared as all hell baby. I wish I could mesh all of my loved ones together, spiral them into my soul, and carry them in my veins with me everywhere I go. You have all made an impact on me. Whether it be good or bad an impact was made. And I think that’s great. I am growing in front of your very eyes. I’m learning how to make eye contact, i’m perfecting my stance. Let’s keep this going. I like this right here. This comfort known as home. This place i’ve nestled and nurtured for so many years now. You sheltered me from the unknown and exposed me to a world I could have never found on my own. Thank you from the bottom of my wrecked heart. I want to swim in your spine and collect memories in this glass jar. Allow me to, please?

I feel bad because sometimes well lets just say i’m way too cautiously pessimistic when my cousin goes out on dates. I’m pretty sure she thinks i’m pissed off because I’m spending a Friday night alone eating Chinese takeout and watching Icarly but that is simply not so. That’s pretty much a great evening in my book. It’s just that I watch her get ready, pace the apartment, clean like an obsessive compulsive and fiddle with her dress. Her knees shaky and her eye on the clock. She’s had a pretty rough go at the dating scene. She’s always leagues ahead of the douche ass dudes she dates. It’s almost infuriating, i’m like a momma cub being far too overprotective. I just want the best for her, God knows she deserves it.

Overdose, mental hospital, and more numbing tragedies compiling in life's glove compartment. Amidst the bills and colored kid drawings. These are the crosses I have to bear. Nosy highschool friends call and give me their rehearsed opinions. Understandbly they might be right. Maybe they should worry even if half halfheartedly. Maybe i'm in self destruct mode. Maybe I am doomed. Toxic tales coming out of the woodwork. Family in their defining moments, showing true colors. Colors soaked in formaldehyde. It's a lot for one girl to take on. I will walk the line, I will carry my head high. I'll keep trying to cross the finish line, maybe I might see some of you there.

I don't ever wonder what he's doing. Or wonder how he feels on certain hot topic issues. I don't care what his favorite color is. Or inquire about his mother's condition. I don't want to hear about how miserable he is. Even how we met was off. A run in that bitterly turned into the burning of a sacrificial lamb. I don't really quite know if my heart has room for two. I think there's a feelings button missing from my wiring. A wicked cricket for a conscience. It makes sense to want some one else's skin touching yours. It makes sense to hate sleeping in a queen size bed all alone. It's a burning sensation, no one is immune to it. But succumbing to mediocre company however does not. Skin on skin can become simply so. It can become comfortable and safe. A safe bet, yeah that. Being alone could truly save some girls souls.

This is a sick breed of sadness. I think about all the dead leaves I trailed in the house. More baggage, more mood swings. More crazy feelings in my veins. The people whose faces I miss stack into piles on my lap. Already treading a high tide, more to think about. More things to pace about. I always wondered how people simply move away. And I did, I packed my years of mess into suitcases and crossed that Louisiana border. I wonder how it'd be if I had stayed.. would I still have these friendships to show for? Would have I truly lived? Would I be alive?

Yeah I want love, but I fight everyday to prevent it.

Love is a topic I am at not of liberty to discuss but here I go anyhow...

Love, an archeological dig, repetitive and demanding. Years of tired techniques and sun scorched skin. Two people entitled to one another. Entitled to the promise of each other. The end all be all kinda love. Absurd pet names kinda love. Drunk in public fighting kinda love. And then suddenly it ends, some one dampers the intense love dynamic. A spear to the core of it, zapping it's credibility. So at the end of the day what do you have? A measly story, a moment in time captured by a camera's zoom which is then interrupted when the pictures at hand burn and fray. You then vow to enter love a little less naive next time. You'll refer to him in past tense and keep his hoodie. You think to yourself he'd make for a great story one day. And all of this, this warped cycle is supposed to entice me? Rather it makes me think that lovers are fools. Playing a blind hand. Betting chips on a sinking ship. I might chirp and squirm but I make a valid point. Can you love if your end result is a foiled plan? Sound off 1,2.

"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."
Sylvia Plath

To be continued..

In retrospect she was meant to be forgotten. Oversize feet, meaty hips, barely there tits, prickly legs. All the makings of a spec of the past. Lips that are a shade too pale, skin that is salty from the Texas sun. Cellulite on the thighs, ratty hair, wobbly knees a prototype defect. Assembly line trash. Made lovable? No, that would require blessings from the gods. A god, any god. Any idol worth worshiping. Good luck doesn't just land into the lap of a gal like her. Any present is coated in grime. Any well intention is hidden behind bad intentioned human beings. Miracle? What is that? In her world the earth was scattered with bad news. Miscarriages, abortions, relationships gone astray, what is there to live for? Maybe the thought of living has become too abstract. Blink and you might miss the art at hand. She wasn't sheltered, knew the shape of a dick by age 14. No, she wasn't outdated, she was far ahead of her kind. She thought of the bigger picture, the Picasso's at large. Cigarette ashes scattered her dashboard, she gripped the world with her index finger. The chipped polish in all it's glory. She knew she was going somewhere. The road maps burned, the compass shattered. She knew that she could piece back together a journey, one that had yet to be completed. So she sighed and changed the awful radio station, foot on the peddle, eye on the prize. To be continued she wrote...

Always lead back the same steep road
Back to my sophomore year, not yet sure of anything
You slip me back in the palm of your hand
I'm quicksand, engulfed in the essence of dissolving in midair.
Magic trick, word play, this all ends the same
You are a frat boy now. Toga parties, keg stands you are a college lad.
I reflect on our younger years, i'm reappearing,
My motive is to be reflected
On the years that are now shrunken into morsels
Pieces of the past, meant to be put back together
Memories can be cruel. The road is getting easier.
I collect into a solid figure and kiss the past goodbye with my movement.