(no subject)
i guess you never really know until you know. and i mean, know for sure. i never knew how bad it had gotten. i never wanted to know.
walking in i knew it would be bad. he was too excited, too eager. i kind of already knew what would go down, but i told myself he was better than that.
twenty dollars collected on the bright white kitchen counter. another twenty appeared from his wallet, and they mingled for a short while, the bills mixing into one pile. a short skinny boy appeared wearing black pants, a black hoodie, and one of those ugly sideswiped winter hats with a pseudo-baseball bill. he looked shifty, only interested in the pile of twentys on the counter. swiftly the twenty was switched for a small dense bag of green leaves. they tossed it amongst themselves, and looked to the short boy for more. "we needed two." he nodded, and left for more, not to return for another half hour. the bag sat beside the other twenty once they had finished inspecting the quality.
it was tossed like an egg around, each careful, yet curious in their inspection. "its small." every one of them added in phrases that seemed appropriate. "yeah, but its dense." they were their own experts. "nice texture." and they played their game well. nobody wanted to seem like the beginner, the amateur. but i was the amateur. the only one concerned about authority, about consequences, and about the person he was becoming. stereotypically i had every excuse in the world, and utilizing them would be oh so simple. it wouldnt be the first time, but it would still rank in the top ten.
ranking by tens makes it easier to leave a little wiggle room. saying its one of the top ten means it could play out to be number nine or number one, and nobody other than myself would have to know. id never have to admit it. but i will tell you it wasnt number one. hitting the top ten for universally stupid ideas was a big deal though. i tried so fucking hard not to use those dumb stereotypical excuses, not to be one of them. you know which people i mean, the fuck ups, the dumbasses, and the kids who barely got by. i straightened up, and i got my shit together. i straightened my tie, and fucking took things as they came. i did what i always wanted to, and i fucking pulled myself together. i fought the good fight, and i was fucking sick of where it has gotten me. so in my weakest moment, and when i needed him to be there for me the most, i let him win. maybe it was for teenage bragging rights, for a sense of unity, or just for the experience, but i broke.
i remembered the last couple times, and why i had made it a point to stop. i can recall clearly the words scribbled on lines, and then in between lines, and the hatred that came through those words. i could still hear the bay crashing into the bridge on the walk home, and how fucking angry the beach was from three blocks away. i knew it wasnt a good idea. but we parked anyway. and i forgot everything.
so we passed it. to and fro, like masters. both convinced that there was no such thing as too much. my body started shaking from what i figured was the dropping temperature, mixing chemicals, my lack of a winter coat. we followed the words to the songs, hanging on every verse, and forcing ourselves inside complex and ultimately beautiful visualizations. conversation waned out, and we passed ideas simply by glances. we knew it all, and at the same time we knew nothing. this is what was done. nothing was questioned. we didnt ask why, or when to stop. when we were out, we stopped. every choice seemed like a good one, and disregarding my shaking seemed simple. but something was different, and i had noticed it from the start. things were not disappating like normally, and this wasnt warming me from the inside out. shaking. all i felt was shaking.
i passed through the comfort into the frightened. why was i shaking, and why couldnt i consciously stop myself. convulsing it seemed like. i thought i was convulsing. and even after, he drove. (i tried to force myself inside the visualizations, but i couldnt go, why was he driving??) and more importantly, he left me to drive home. six blankets and i was still shaking. lying in bed afraid, convulsing as quietly as possible, and making ridiculous promises to myself. resenting the hell out of everything about the night, and him. who the fuck are you. still shaking, still fucking shaking, all alone, and fucking scared. who the fuck are you, what happened to you? why. please stop shaking, i just want to sleep. fucking let me sleep. why do i let this shit happen? please. stop. shaking. and a night of my life lost. some things end up simply as big mistakes. there is no other way to describe them.
walking in i knew it would be bad. he was too excited, too eager. i kind of already knew what would go down, but i told myself he was better than that.
twenty dollars collected on the bright white kitchen counter. another twenty appeared from his wallet, and they mingled for a short while, the bills mixing into one pile. a short skinny boy appeared wearing black pants, a black hoodie, and one of those ugly sideswiped winter hats with a pseudo-baseball bill. he looked shifty, only interested in the pile of twentys on the counter. swiftly the twenty was switched for a small dense bag of green leaves. they tossed it amongst themselves, and looked to the short boy for more. "we needed two." he nodded, and left for more, not to return for another half hour. the bag sat beside the other twenty once they had finished inspecting the quality.
it was tossed like an egg around, each careful, yet curious in their inspection. "its small." every one of them added in phrases that seemed appropriate. "yeah, but its dense." they were their own experts. "nice texture." and they played their game well. nobody wanted to seem like the beginner, the amateur. but i was the amateur. the only one concerned about authority, about consequences, and about the person he was becoming. stereotypically i had every excuse in the world, and utilizing them would be oh so simple. it wouldnt be the first time, but it would still rank in the top ten.
ranking by tens makes it easier to leave a little wiggle room. saying its one of the top ten means it could play out to be number nine or number one, and nobody other than myself would have to know. id never have to admit it. but i will tell you it wasnt number one. hitting the top ten for universally stupid ideas was a big deal though. i tried so fucking hard not to use those dumb stereotypical excuses, not to be one of them. you know which people i mean, the fuck ups, the dumbasses, and the kids who barely got by. i straightened up, and i got my shit together. i straightened my tie, and fucking took things as they came. i did what i always wanted to, and i fucking pulled myself together. i fought the good fight, and i was fucking sick of where it has gotten me. so in my weakest moment, and when i needed him to be there for me the most, i let him win. maybe it was for teenage bragging rights, for a sense of unity, or just for the experience, but i broke.
i remembered the last couple times, and why i had made it a point to stop. i can recall clearly the words scribbled on lines, and then in between lines, and the hatred that came through those words. i could still hear the bay crashing into the bridge on the walk home, and how fucking angry the beach was from three blocks away. i knew it wasnt a good idea. but we parked anyway. and i forgot everything.
so we passed it. to and fro, like masters. both convinced that there was no such thing as too much. my body started shaking from what i figured was the dropping temperature, mixing chemicals, my lack of a winter coat. we followed the words to the songs, hanging on every verse, and forcing ourselves inside complex and ultimately beautiful visualizations. conversation waned out, and we passed ideas simply by glances. we knew it all, and at the same time we knew nothing. this is what was done. nothing was questioned. we didnt ask why, or when to stop. when we were out, we stopped. every choice seemed like a good one, and disregarding my shaking seemed simple. but something was different, and i had noticed it from the start. things were not disappating like normally, and this wasnt warming me from the inside out. shaking. all i felt was shaking.
i passed through the comfort into the frightened. why was i shaking, and why couldnt i consciously stop myself. convulsing it seemed like. i thought i was convulsing. and even after, he drove. (i tried to force myself inside the visualizations, but i couldnt go, why was he driving??) and more importantly, he left me to drive home. six blankets and i was still shaking. lying in bed afraid, convulsing as quietly as possible, and making ridiculous promises to myself. resenting the hell out of everything about the night, and him. who the fuck are you. still shaking, still fucking shaking, all alone, and fucking scared. who the fuck are you, what happened to you? why. please stop shaking, i just want to sleep. fucking let me sleep. why do i let this shit happen? please. stop. shaking. and a night of my life lost. some things end up simply as big mistakes. there is no other way to describe them.