Had to write a list poem for class..so here was my attempt:
Take a shower.
Talk to someone.
Write a letter.
Draw nature.
Watch a Disney movie.
Go to sleep.
Or try to.
Punch a wall.
Count to ten.
Go for a walk.
Go for a run.
Exercise in a gym.
Meditate.
Scream because it's happening.
Cry because it happened.
Breathe because it's over.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
P.S. I Love You
I hate that I feel unwanted.
I hate her.
I hate what she's doing to us.
I hate the distance.
I hate that you don't seem to care.
I hate knowing the real you..
And I hate not seeing it anymore.
I hate that you've changed.
I hate that you make me cry.
I hate that without you I feel like I'll die.
I hate you.
But darling..I truly love you so.
I hate her.
I hate what she's doing to us.
I hate the distance.
I hate that you don't seem to care.
I hate knowing the real you..
And I hate not seeing it anymore.
I hate that you've changed.
I hate that you make me cry.
I hate that without you I feel like I'll die.
I hate you.
But darling..I truly love you so.
The Body Language of One With a Missing Half
My whispers are hushed like a breeze through the leaves.
My eyes are creamy like dark chocolate.
But penetrating like the night.
My stature, strong, but withdrawn.
My lips have a lot to say, but are closed.
My brow, wrinkles with a story.
My bone structure is small like a fairy, but resistant like oak.
My shoulders carry weight it shouldn't be.
My feet have traveled like a missionary.
My scras show my survival.
My body language is incomplete.
I am missing you.
My eyes are creamy like dark chocolate.
But penetrating like the night.
My stature, strong, but withdrawn.
My lips have a lot to say, but are closed.
My brow, wrinkles with a story.
My bone structure is small like a fairy, but resistant like oak.
My shoulders carry weight it shouldn't be.
My feet have traveled like a missionary.
My scras show my survival.
My body language is incomplete.
I am missing you.
What to Write
Pen in my hand.
Paper under my nose.
What to write.
What to write.
The fluttering of pages.
The thud of books.
The zip of a backpack.
The tapping of fingers.
What to write.
What to write.
Eyes darting.
Pen caps moving.
Minds racing.
What to write.
What to write.
The smell of ink.
The smell of paper.
The smell of nothing.
What to write.
What to write.
Stomachs filled.
Eyes heavy.
A class of students on an average day.
What to write.
What to write.
Paper under my nose.
What to write.
What to write.
The fluttering of pages.
The thud of books.
The zip of a backpack.
The tapping of fingers.
What to write.
What to write.
Eyes darting.
Pen caps moving.
Minds racing.
What to write.
What to write.
The smell of ink.
The smell of paper.
The smell of nothing.
What to write.
What to write.
Stomachs filled.
Eyes heavy.
A class of students on an average day.
What to write.
What to write.
White
The white room.
With the white walls.
Sitting on the white sheets.
While the man in the white coat walks in.
He snaps on his white gloves.
And clicks the heels of his white shoes.
But soon, the sheets are no longer white.
Nor are his shoes, coat, gloves, walls...room.
It's splattered red.
With my blood.
With her blood.
And now I miss the white.
Especially the whites of her eyes that I'll never see.
With the white walls.
Sitting on the white sheets.
While the man in the white coat walks in.
He snaps on his white gloves.
And clicks the heels of his white shoes.
But soon, the sheets are no longer white.
Nor are his shoes, coat, gloves, walls...room.
It's splattered red.
With my blood.
With her blood.
And now I miss the white.
Especially the whites of her eyes that I'll never see.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Eyes
When you look into my eyes,
What do you see?
When you look into me eyes,
Do you see the real me?
Some say young, some say old.
None would guess how much I've had to mold.
Through the highs, and through the lows.
Through the darkness and through the glow.
In and out, of yes and no.
In and out, to and fro.
None would say, no none would guess,
Abuse, or even stress.
Restrictions, craves, addictions,
Things not meant to be seen by eyes too young to see it.
I've tried and tried to escape it,
And you can try to believe it.
But I am victim to these crimes.
Without even scavaging for a dime.
No, these charges came for free,
Don't you see, they're a part of me.
There's no getting out, there's no forgetting.
And I'd be wasting my time, if I tried regretting.
But you wouldn't believe me,
You'd say it's untrue.
All because in reality,
You don't have a clue.
So tell me, when you look into my eyes,
What do you see?
And when you look into my eyes,
Do you see the real me?
What do you see?
When you look into me eyes,
Do you see the real me?
Some say young, some say old.
None would guess how much I've had to mold.
Through the highs, and through the lows.
Through the darkness and through the glow.
In and out, of yes and no.
In and out, to and fro.
None would say, no none would guess,
Abuse, or even stress.
Restrictions, craves, addictions,
Things not meant to be seen by eyes too young to see it.
I've tried and tried to escape it,
And you can try to believe it.
But I am victim to these crimes.
Without even scavaging for a dime.
No, these charges came for free,
Don't you see, they're a part of me.
There's no getting out, there's no forgetting.
And I'd be wasting my time, if I tried regretting.
But you wouldn't believe me,
You'd say it's untrue.
All because in reality,
You don't have a clue.
So tell me, when you look into my eyes,
What do you see?
And when you look into my eyes,
Do you see the real me?
Dear Taz, Love Tink
I'm not alone, but I'm lonely.
Everyday without you breaks me down a little more.
I force myself to keep strong;
To keep going.
But I don't want to.
I want to say "fuck it" and go to you.
I don't care about the money,
Or plans I had for my future.
You are my future,
I just want you.
With me now, with me forever.
I need you now,
I'm breaking down.
Pick me up and never let me go.
Hold me till I fall asleep,
Save me from the nightmares of your absence.
I'm not alone, but I'm lonely.
Everyday without you breaks me down a little more.
I force myself to keep strong;
To keep going.
But I don't want to.
I want to say "fuck it" and go to you.
I don't care about the money,
Or plans I had for my future.
You are my future,
I just want you.
With me now, with me forever.
I need you now,
I'm breaking down.
Pick me up and never let me go.
Hold me till I fall asleep,
Save me from the nightmares of your absence.
I'm not alone, but I'm lonely.
The Defintion of a Father..She Does Not Know
The leaves gathered dust as they lay on the ground. The cluster of them ranging from a soft yellow to a crisp brown. The little girl stared at them, bewildered. Just once would be enough. All it would have taken was one time for her to be happy. But of course, not even the simplest request could be slightly considered by Him. He shut down any offer, without even a second glance. Within no time, he was gone. So much for spending the weekend with Him. All the little girl wanted was to jump in the pile of leaves with him once. Grandma couldn't do it, she never even stood up--and the little girl didn't know why. But now there was no one. He left a lot. Seemed to be every time she asked to play. Or cuddle. Or asked anything in general. She didn't understand. She say him every weekend..Or was supposed to. She actually rarely "saw" him. Another wasted weekend. Another weekend of her going home and meaning it when she said she did nothing. Damn, and at age 4 too.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
A Life Worth Ending
The mirrored box shone under the light. I stared at it on the shelf as it looked so pure. So pretty. But it was anything but that. Its contents were deadly. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I slowly walked towards it and placed two fingers and a thumb on the lid. I blew off the dust before pulling it towards me and carrying it to my bed with me. As I fell onto the plush comforter, I dropped the box next to me. A square dust line formed on my sheets form the bottom perimeter of the box. I lifted the lid and carefully removed the contents onto my hand. I hadn't held them in a month; they felt heavier than normal. They were my go-to, my crutch when nothing and no one else was there. I depended on them. My hand tilted sideways until they slid from my palm. I stared at them, so dark and sinister. They contrasted durastically with my pale, pink, cuorduroy comforter. I could hear them calling me. Whispering my name. Begging for one more use. I could hear my heartbeat within them, because they held it captive. Had control over me. Control I willingly gave them. But today was the end. No longer would they have that control. No longer would I torment myself with them. Their power is gone. No longer will I succumb to them. I am no longer weak. I am strong. They are not. I pick them up with a new fire; a new desire to overcome. I grip them tightly; I am the one who has the upperhand now. I march up the steps to end their life. I lift the lid of the trash and bury them to their death. The scars are still with me; the blades are gone.
Unknown
I know no dad.
I know abandonment.
I understand rejection.
I'm used to 'I hate you.'
A father is not real.
I know lonely.
I understand solitude.
I'm used to 'Go away.'
A male authority is not comprehendable.
I know lies.
I understand independence.
I'm used to slammed doors.
I know no dad.
I've never had one.
I never will.
I know abandonment.
I understand rejection.
I'm used to 'I hate you.'
A father is not real.
I know lonely.
I understand solitude.
I'm used to 'Go away.'
A male authority is not comprehendable.
I know lies.
I understand independence.
I'm used to slammed doors.
I know no dad.
I've never had one.
I never will.
The Monster
Lift me up and spin me around.
Take me away, far from the ground.
Take my spirit, make it soar.
I'll go anywhere, just not the floor.
Make me smile, make me fly.
Do anything, just don't make me cry.
I'm working my hardest to get by.
'Cause you know me, I love that High.
But when I crash, I crash so hard.
And then I see that I played the wrong card.
So I find another deal,
I may even steal.
Just as long as at the end of the day,
You lift me up and spin me around.
Take me away, far from the ground.
Take me away, far from the ground.
Take my spirit, make it soar.
I'll go anywhere, just not the floor.
Make me smile, make me fly.
Do anything, just don't make me cry.
I'm working my hardest to get by.
'Cause you know me, I love that High.
But when I crash, I crash so hard.
And then I see that I played the wrong card.
So I find another deal,
I may even steal.
Just as long as at the end of the day,
You lift me up and spin me around.
Take me away, far from the ground.
Just Don't
Don't ask me,
I do not know.
Don't ask me,
I will not go.
Don't ask me,
I'll let you down.
Don't ask me,
I'll make you frown.
Don't ask me,
I do not care.
Don't ask me,
It's more than I can bear.
Don't ask me,
I will not tell.
Don't ask me,
Just go to tell.
I do not know.
Don't ask me,
I will not go.
Don't ask me,
I'll let you down.
Don't ask me,
I'll make you frown.
Don't ask me,
I do not care.
Don't ask me,
It's more than I can bear.
Don't ask me,
I will not tell.
Don't ask me,
Just go to tell.
Unwanted Reunion
She stared at them in shock. THe earthquake destroyed every inch of land. Everything torn up, ruined. Every memory shattered. She hadn't seen her close friend in ten months. And she wasn't planning on seeing her today. But there she was. AMong all the destruction she was still beautiful, still elegant. Somehow, there was still a radiance about her. Many were gathered, being impacted by her presence once again. Some family, most friends, and a few supporters. But none of them wanted to see her today. And certainly not her bones.
Invincible
It was as if I had been thrown into a wall and stabbed. I desperately needed air but it wasn't finding its' way into my lungs. I start at the game on the t.v., didn't pay attention. I stared at the text message on my phone, it blurred out. I barely choked out the words "I want to be alone" as my mom looked at me with a worried and sad face after telling me the news. Three back surgeries in two months. No. Sick? NO. He couldn't be sick. He is my hero. My supporter. My adviser. At an age of 75, I realized that my grandfather--my hero--was no longer the invicible man I always thought he was. He always told me that there is no such thing as time, only clocks. I'm scared his clock soon may break.
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Suitcase
It had so many memories with it. The threads were loosening and all-together missing at some parts. I still remember his parting words, complimented with a gift I did not want to receive.
Our love wasn't like others. He wasn't like others. Our relationship built up slowly. We didn't even kiss until the third date. We looked like an odd couple. His hipster style clashed with my clean-cut chic style. My hair was a short pixie cut at the time with olive eyes to match. Make-up always done, nails always manicured, there was not one spot of uncleanliness about me. He was a complete grunge. Despite our clashing looks, we had more in common than anyone would guess. We both grew up without help. Self-reliant from birth, we raised ourselves. We did not know dependence. We did not understand asking for help. But neither of us minded because we both understood each other. If we argued at all, it was about what color we wanted to paint our condo. We moved in together after a year and a half of dating. It was an amazing six months at first, well...it was great until I learned of the influence he had on me.
Within one year of living together, I dropped out of law school. I dropped out of college all together. I had thirteen piercings and wanted more. Just like Jace, my body became littered with tattoos. I worked in a merchandise shop for metal and rock concerts. Bartended on weekends. Jace and I moved a lot too. Eviction became common due to our constant party complaints and the lurking smell of marijuana that seeped through the vents. We didn't care.
Looking back, I don't remember when I stopped caring. Maybe it was the first time I filled my lungs with the poisonous smoke that became my best friend, Jane. Or the first time that I burned my throat by swallowing the fiery whiskey. Either way, I no longer cared. My pencil skirts and button down shirts were packed in a box far away smelling of musk. All my heels had layers of dust from the years of being stuffed farther and farther into the depths of the underneath of my bed. I allowed myself to live like this for five years.
We were both almost 27 when things began to change. Jace was acting weird. In bed, he stopped holding me. He spent less and less time at home and more and more at the shop or with "friends". I didn't believe one word he said. I mean, I no longer had any of my own friends. They all drop-kicked me out of their life me out of their lives to continue on with their ambitions. But I befriended all of his friends. We became close, so I often tagged along with him. Yet he stopped inviting me to hang out with them. This made me very suspicious that something was going on. One night he came home very late. I turned on the light when he when he walked in. I was sitting on the kitchen counter with a cigarette and a cup of coffee. My cheeks were stained with black lines. My eyes were puffy and I was surrounded by tissues. I tried to contain myself and ease up to the big question, but that never happened.
I packed my bags slowly. As I looked into my now half-empty closet, the boxes filled with the old me became evident. A familiar pang stabbed my gut. I forced myself to refocus on my bags. With a final sigh, I zip them up and haul them to the outside of our apartment building. The cab arrived shortly after. Jace was right on my heels to wish me goodbye. Before stepping into the cab, I turned to him. We stared into each others' eyes for a moment before leaping into each others' arms. I didn't want to let him go, but he pulled away and gripped my shoulders while looking deep into my eyes. The carried the same sincerity from the day we met.
"Luce. I love you. Get better my darling and I will be here to see you when you come home." His eyes filled with tears while we shared one last kiss. I didn't yet know this would be the last kiss we would ever share.
My feet dragged as I stopped into the main hall of the building. The man and I made a right. Wait, two rights. Now a left, and another right. Wait, I lost track. When we finally arrived into the main entertainment room, I was thoroughly lost. Three others were also in the room.I studied them as I nervously stood to the side. Grant sat in a chair his elbows on his knees, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Rochelle paced. Axel just stared out the window with his arms hugging his body. I could tell these were hardcore druggies, and me..all I did was smoke and drink..so why was I here? "Everyone, this is Lucy. Lucy, meet Grant, Rochelle and Axel. You'll be rooming with Rochelle." Grant snickered until Rochelle shot him the death glare. He showed me to my room. I dropped my measly suitcase and sat on my cot. Bounced on it a couple times. Hard as a rock. The walls had a couple picture quotes with cheesy lines like "You can do this!". Hah. Whatever. Rochelle stopped in, looking at me, then began to take off her makeup while saying, "Keep your stuff on your side of the room and we shouldn't have a problem." I nodded and started putting my clothes away. Looks like I won't be making friends here.
The next morning I was harshly awoken by a nurse. She led me to a small room filled with medical equipment. "Take off your clothes."
As soon as I lay down again one of the therapists walks in and calls us out to breakfast. She is way too chipper for this early in the morning. As I strolled anxiously into the small cafeteria last, the other patients glanced at me slightly then blankly turned their attention towards the food. The powdered eggs and chewy bacon did not satisfy my palette. I was still hungry but I didn't want that food at all. What I wanted was my morning bowl and a cup of coffee. But no bowls for me. Or pipes. Or bongs. Or joints or blunts. No shots or pints either. Just weak cigarettes until I get out of this place. Hah. "Lucy?" The chipper therapist called me from the entertainment room into another room. Its pale blue walls and wicker furniture was misleading. This was not a relaxing beach house. This was New York City and I am in rehab. After scoping out the room, my gaze turned towards the therapist with an icy glaze over my eyes. If she thought I was opening up to her than she's on something.
The suitcase opened with an echoing loud click and a note fluttered out. It read, "My dearest Lucy, I love you so much. Know that this decision was painful beyond comprehension. But I was not healthy for you. I want this gift to hopefully draw you back to your very first passion. If you would like to visit me, my address is G33. Always, Jace." G33 confused me a lot. I logged onto map quest and got directions. As I made my way to Jace, I prepared myself for the outcome. Another chick. Him drunk. Or high. A screaming fight that would shatter anything we ever had. I looked up to scope out my destination, and what I saw took the breath out of my lungs. I was at a cemetery. G33 was his plot number.
I sifted through the headstones until I got to his plot. It read that he passed away September 21, 2001. An entire seven months before we met. I collapsed to the ground--breathless and speechless. How could he have been dead this entire time? Was I really in love with a ghost? Or was he an angel?
I slowly made my way home, bumping into various people. I did not pay attention. I did not care. After getting back into our apartment I look a hard look around. No sign that he had ever lived there. I spotted the suitcase once again and found myself falling towards it. The gold lettering blurred out. A few hours later I groggily awoke. The had set well beyond the top of the buildings and the darkness overtook everything. I stood up and turned on the kitchen light. I pondered on the suitcase and the note. Jace was right. I needed to go back to my first passion. Within five months all my tattoos were removed and most of my piercings gone. I enrolled myself back into law school, and studied hard. No more drinking or smoking. Over time I became very successful. I never found love again, never married.
~~~~
New York City was my dream destination. Ever since I was a little girl all I could dream about was walking along the streets chalk full of people. Waking up to the sound of trucks and cabs blaring. Making music out of the hustle and bustle of the city. Eating greasy hot dogs, pretzels and peanuts right from the stand. Rollerblading through Central Park. Ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center. Getting neck cramps from craning my neck to look at all the buildings. I wanted it all.
At the ripe age of 20, that's exactly what I got. And more. Because there was a guy. He was not my image of "perfect." Me being the clean and proper girl I was..and he was anything but that. He worked as a tattoo artist in the not-so-nice part of town. Body littered with various tattoos. Not to mention piercings. Lip, nose, tongue, and two sets of gauges on each ear. So a girl studying law at NYU; why would I be interested? Well, he was quite the charmer. Roughly 5'10" with jet black hair; not too long and not too short. He had piercing blue eyes that locked you into an eternal gaze the moment eye contact was made. His name was Jace.
On April 20th out fates intertwined. I was walking through the brisk October chill towards a friends apartment and walked past him while he was on his smoke break. Just as he creamed the butt of the cigarette into the ground with the tip of his shoe, his eye caught mine. "I'm sorry..do I know you? You look oddly familiar." he said as he flashed his winner smile at me. His teeth were surprisingly white after obviously knowing he smoked.
"Uhm..no, I'm sorry. You've got the wrong person." I turned to keep walking, but his hand reached out and gripped my shoulder.
"Wait. I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you off but... ugh. I'm no good at this. I think you're very pretty and I.. I.. I would like to get to know you. I'm Jace." His intense eyes softened proving the sincerity in his voice. I un-tensed my body and turned towards him.
I pondered his offer for a moment. After all, I was new to town still. We exchanged numbers and he told me he would contact me. With one last handshake, we parted our separate ways. I looked over my shoulder one last time and blushed to find him looking over his.I stuck out my hand, saying, "I'm Lucy."
"Lucy? That's..that's a beautiful name. May I get your number? I'd love to take you out to coffee sometime."
Our love wasn't like others. He wasn't like others. Our relationship built up slowly. We didn't even kiss until the third date. We looked like an odd couple. His hipster style clashed with my clean-cut chic style. My hair was a short pixie cut at the time with olive eyes to match. Make-up always done, nails always manicured, there was not one spot of uncleanliness about me. He was a complete grunge. Despite our clashing looks, we had more in common than anyone would guess. We both grew up without help. Self-reliant from birth, we raised ourselves. We did not know dependence. We did not understand asking for help. But neither of us minded because we both understood each other. If we argued at all, it was about what color we wanted to paint our condo. We moved in together after a year and a half of dating. It was an amazing six months at first, well...it was great until I learned of the influence he had on me.
Within one year of living together, I dropped out of law school. I dropped out of college all together. I had thirteen piercings and wanted more. Just like Jace, my body became littered with tattoos. I worked in a merchandise shop for metal and rock concerts. Bartended on weekends. Jace and I moved a lot too. Eviction became common due to our constant party complaints and the lurking smell of marijuana that seeped through the vents. We didn't care.
Looking back, I don't remember when I stopped caring. Maybe it was the first time I filled my lungs with the poisonous smoke that became my best friend, Jane. Or the first time that I burned my throat by swallowing the fiery whiskey. Either way, I no longer cared. My pencil skirts and button down shirts were packed in a box far away smelling of musk. All my heels had layers of dust from the years of being stuffed farther and farther into the depths of the underneath of my bed. I allowed myself to live like this for five years.
We were both almost 27 when things began to change. Jace was acting weird. In bed, he stopped holding me. He spent less and less time at home and more and more at the shop or with "friends". I didn't believe one word he said. I mean, I no longer had any of my own friends. They all drop-kicked me out of their life me out of their lives to continue on with their ambitions. But I befriended all of his friends. We became close, so I often tagged along with him. Yet he stopped inviting me to hang out with them. This made me very suspicious that something was going on. One night he came home very late. I turned on the light when he when he walked in. I was sitting on the kitchen counter with a cigarette and a cup of coffee. My cheeks were stained with black lines. My eyes were puffy and I was surrounded by tissues. I tried to contain myself and ease up to the big question, but that never happened.
"Are you cheating on me?" I blurted.
With a chuckle he replied, "Haha, what?! No, I wouldn't ever do that to you."
"Well you're acting like it."
"Hun, where are you getting all of this?"
"You've changed. You don't treat me the same as you used to. What did I do wrong?" Sobs broke up the words and I broke down. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry but that promise broke without me even putting up a fight. Jace's face and body expression softened as he walked over me and my hands in his.
"Luce, baby, I love you. I would never cheat on you. It's just.." He sighed.
"Just what?"
"Your drinking and smoking have gotten out of control. I know it's my fault. But I love you and would love to spend my life with you. But I want you to get healthy again. Go back to the Lucy I fell in love with."
"Are you telling me I need REHAB?! What the hell?"
"Babe, please don't yell. I was scared you'd react like this. Please know that I only want the best for you, I want you to get better. Don't you see that?" I wanted to yell at him, but I had to admit that he was right. Even if I didn't want to believe it.
"I..I guess you're right.""So, will you let me take you to get help?" Tears welled up in my eyes once again and I stubbornly nodded. I cried into his shirt as he held me tightly. He whispered, "I love you baby. You know that, right?" A muffled "mhmm" escaped my mouth as my tears continued to bleed into his shirt.
I packed my bags slowly. As I looked into my now half-empty closet, the boxes filled with the old me became evident. A familiar pang stabbed my gut. I forced myself to refocus on my bags. With a final sigh, I zip them up and haul them to the outside of our apartment building. The cab arrived shortly after. Jace was right on my heels to wish me goodbye. Before stepping into the cab, I turned to him. We stared into each others' eyes for a moment before leaping into each others' arms. I didn't want to let him go, but he pulled away and gripped my shoulders while looking deep into my eyes. The carried the same sincerity from the day we met.
"Luce. I love you. Get better my darling and I will be here to see you when you come home." His eyes filled with tears while we shared one last kiss. I didn't yet know this would be the last kiss we would ever share.
My feet dragged as I stopped into the main hall of the building. The man and I made a right. Wait, two rights. Now a left, and another right. Wait, I lost track. When we finally arrived into the main entertainment room, I was thoroughly lost. Three others were also in the room.I studied them as I nervously stood to the side. Grant sat in a chair his elbows on his knees, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Rochelle paced. Axel just stared out the window with his arms hugging his body. I could tell these were hardcore druggies, and me..all I did was smoke and drink..so why was I here? "Everyone, this is Lucy. Lucy, meet Grant, Rochelle and Axel. You'll be rooming with Rochelle." Grant snickered until Rochelle shot him the death glare. He showed me to my room. I dropped my measly suitcase and sat on my cot. Bounced on it a couple times. Hard as a rock. The walls had a couple picture quotes with cheesy lines like "You can do this!". Hah. Whatever. Rochelle stopped in, looking at me, then began to take off her makeup while saying, "Keep your stuff on your side of the room and we shouldn't have a problem." I nodded and started putting my clothes away. Looks like I won't be making friends here.
The next morning I was harshly awoken by a nurse. She led me to a small room filled with medical equipment. "Take off your clothes."
"What?!" I gasped.
"Take off your clothes," she said in the same monotone voice, "I need to do a physical."I reluctantly shed my clothing and sat on the cold metal table. With her clipboard she inspected various parts of my body and took notes. Only Jace had ever seen my body; I had never felt so violated. I noticed countless cracks in the ceiling and wished nothing more than to be able to disappear into them. Before I know it, I feel a prick on the inside of my elbow as she draws blood. After she finishes I lazily walk back to my room.
As soon as I lay down again one of the therapists walks in and calls us out to breakfast. She is way too chipper for this early in the morning. As I strolled anxiously into the small cafeteria last, the other patients glanced at me slightly then blankly turned their attention towards the food. The powdered eggs and chewy bacon did not satisfy my palette. I was still hungry but I didn't want that food at all. What I wanted was my morning bowl and a cup of coffee. But no bowls for me. Or pipes. Or bongs. Or joints or blunts. No shots or pints either. Just weak cigarettes until I get out of this place. Hah. "Lucy?" The chipper therapist called me from the entertainment room into another room. Its pale blue walls and wicker furniture was misleading. This was not a relaxing beach house. This was New York City and I am in rehab. After scoping out the room, my gaze turned towards the therapist with an icy glaze over my eyes. If she thought I was opening up to her than she's on something.
"Hello Ms. Trent. I am Dr. Speare."
"Call me Lucy."
"Okay...Lucy. How are you doing?"
"Fine."
"On a scale of one to ten; one being awful and ten being perfect..where does 'fine' fall?"
"Nine."
"Wow. Okay. Well that's good. Noticing any withdrawals yet?"
"No."
"Listen Ms. Tr--Lucy. I am trying to help you, not piss you off. I can't help you if you don't give me a chance and shut me out from the start."
"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?! No. I don't need you. Or anyone else in this stupid hellhole. I was doing perfectly fine in my life before coming here. Do I want to be talking to you? No."With that said I stood up forcefully and made my way out the door. I stopped in the entertainment room for a lighter and cigarette and walked out to the patio. As I puffed my cigarette Axel joined me.
"Rough first meeting, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah I guess you could say that." We smoked in silence for a few minutes before he stated, "Well don't let it get to you too much. They do really want to help."
"I'm getting out of here tomorrow. I refuse to stay here."
"Suit yourself." I tried to stare out at the city through the mesh net. As he walked back I asked, "Wait..what's this net for?"
"So no one jumps."
"Why would anyone do that?"
"Hah, why wouldn't someone? This world is an ugly place."I wrote for my discharge the next morning. After much arguing with the therapists they finally agreed to release me. I hastily packed my bags with a youthful passion. I was going to Jace. I was going home. My heart races as I slowly walked up the familiar concrete steps. I pulled out my brass key and let myself into the familiar building. The old elevator creaked and groaned as it made its way to the bottom floor. The stale cigarette scent greeted me overwhelmingly as the doors slid open. The light above my head flickered as the elevator wobbled and rattled to the fifth floor. After closing behind me, my feet shuffled to our door. My hand shook nervously while fitting the key into the lock. As the door swung open, the smile across my face faded instantly. I stood in the doorway, shocked. The apartment was wiped clean except for two boxes, my neatly folded business clothes, and a suitcase I did not recognize. The boxes were filled with a few miscellaneous items that I owned. I lifted the blazer from the top of the clothes pile to my nose, half expecting it to smell of musk. It smelled like Downy fabric softener. I looked towards the suitcase and ran my fingers over the gold lettering on the side; my initials.
The suitcase opened with an echoing loud click and a note fluttered out. It read, "My dearest Lucy, I love you so much. Know that this decision was painful beyond comprehension. But I was not healthy for you. I want this gift to hopefully draw you back to your very first passion. If you would like to visit me, my address is G33. Always, Jace." G33 confused me a lot. I logged onto map quest and got directions. As I made my way to Jace, I prepared myself for the outcome. Another chick. Him drunk. Or high. A screaming fight that would shatter anything we ever had. I looked up to scope out my destination, and what I saw took the breath out of my lungs. I was at a cemetery. G33 was his plot number.
I sifted through the headstones until I got to his plot. It read that he passed away September 21, 2001. An entire seven months before we met. I collapsed to the ground--breathless and speechless. How could he have been dead this entire time? Was I really in love with a ghost? Or was he an angel?
I slowly made my way home, bumping into various people. I did not pay attention. I did not care. After getting back into our apartment I look a hard look around. No sign that he had ever lived there. I spotted the suitcase once again and found myself falling towards it. The gold lettering blurred out. A few hours later I groggily awoke. The had set well beyond the top of the buildings and the darkness overtook everything. I stood up and turned on the kitchen light. I pondered on the suitcase and the note. Jace was right. I needed to go back to my first passion. Within five months all my tattoos were removed and most of my piercings gone. I enrolled myself back into law school, and studied hard. No more drinking or smoking. Over time I became very successful. I never found love again, never married.
~~~~
As I run my fingers over the threads, tears run down my face. Wrinkles begin to define my face. A slight breeze blows through my hair as I sit next to a generator on the top of my apartment building; I watch the sunset every night. I leave the suitcase and walked to the edge as I stared into the dwindling light. Axel's voice goes through my head saying, "Why wouldn't someone? This world is an ugly place." He was right. Too ugly for me to handle. Next thing I know, I'm flying. Flying home to Jace.
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