I don’t know how to start off. Because I’ve never had that ability to pull together words and string them into something bigger. Words are words and wow, just wow. So I wanted to write what happened to me on December 24th. It’s hallucinogenic and and one of those fairy tales you never got told, because it’d make your parents seem sadistic and high and so cruel so you were lulled with princess’ with inferiority complexes and gold haired kleptomaniac girls and reality bending bears. So so giddy and unstable, I stumbled out of school before the first bell rang. I wanted to run away, but not from abusive parents or social isolation or anything that would make this seem sympathetic, because I lived in a clean, nice little suburban town that had “City” in its name and a underground drug problem.
It was cold, the kind that had nipples predicting weather, and my hips were shaking in tight pants. Tight pants that were for girls and I’d ended up having to ram myself into, resembling a “downward dog” as I bit my lip until deep scarlet blood stained my teeth. I stopped breathing that second to look at the fat round drops splattering on the white carpet. In the time it took (the blood) to make a small pool, I’d lost my footing and slammed face first just as my mother came in howling like a cat. I wished I had a jacket. Or a cigarette, I didn’t smoke but in weather like this, where the scarf wrapped around my neck felt useful and my cheeks were white, I wanted to wrap long fingers around a carcinogenic stick and puff.
So I kept walking straight. I’d always wanted to do that. I walked into bushes, slammed into concrete building walls, and tripped through busy road ways until a “leaving…..” came into view and I was bloody and bruised. My cell phone was sporadically ring, alert to text messages of “where r u” and calls from friends scattered through two of the four of my block scheduled class periods. It was well past breakfast and entering lunch when I walked into a restaurant.
Except it wasn’t a restaurant. It was one of those places that looked like it had a lot of health code violations. It had a stench of gas and piss and I watched blended indifferent faces morph into one. Cool.
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So I’m trying to get my writing love back. I don’t know if its a missing muse or just, fuck, but I’m using prompts and just writing. This is something I need to turn in for this magazine. Idk what I think of it.
