Post by Cascadia on Jun 13, 2008 18:51:07 GMT -5
My legs feel heavy. I don't know if I can make it all the way to my room. The computer just seems so comfortable to sit on. Not on, but, you know. I did it though. I made it down the hallway, down the length of the trailer. And I took ...fuck I can't remember. I put something in my pocket, checked my reflection. Blonde. I've been blonde for so long it seems almost more my own then my actual hair. Which is...damn. What did I put in my pocket ? Lighter, no, had that; keys, need those and had those before; chapstick ? There we go. I lick my lips and taste it there. This is what I'd gotten. The hallway seems to fly past as I make my way to the front door. I need to get out. I know I do. I feel it. The door swings open and I walk down the stairs before seeing her car. Shit. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as I walk forward, focus focus focus. My iPod skips and I jolt. Then things get clearer. Ok.
She's kneeling, petting the cat. The second cat, the fat one. The one I don't like. I growl at it and she stares up at me, startled. Not like I don't do it every time I see her. Mom rolls her eyes and speaks. And speaks. I watch her mouth form shape after shape, watching in amazement as her face fades through different looks and expressions. Huh. She looks so very strange. I nod once as her lips stop moving; she's looking at me expectantly. I grunt, like my brothers and friends have so often at each other, and the shape-flow continues. I do not know what she's saying, I think standing here tolerating the meaningless droning is good enough on my part. Why, actually listen and I may damage my mind or lose more brain cells then I can afford this early on in life.
She says something worthwhile; "What are you were going ?" She still doesn't make any sense to me, but I've learned to cope with that. I just wonder if anyone sees how crazy she is but me. "AJ's or Eric's," I say smartly while giving the furry demon spawn at my feet the evil eye. Mom just shakes her head and drones. The word "Dinner" stands out and I shrug. "Be back later." Internet slang. Woo-hoo. Suddenly I'm walking, and don't hear the annoying buzz of her complaint noises. Awesome.
The corner is there suddenly, and I'm looking for his truck. Fools hope, that he'd be home so early. But I'm a fool and I can't help but hope sometimes. I turn my back on the empty parking place, and continue down the road. Past the bus stop, my legs still not feeling right beneath me. I just want to sit somewhere, but only stoners and bums sit at the bus stop unless you have friends with you. I don't want to make it that bloody obvious I'm a bit of both at the moment.
Halfway down the street and I grin to myself at my warping world, a little sad that I think I hear the drums at the bus stop. He's not there, I tell myself sternly. That was years ago, the drums are gone. It stops and my own music I can blame for the slight wandering of my mind. I wonder briefly if there was anything else in that bowl but the green, and the thought slides away as I see the SUV. Eh, I don't feel like dealing with Grandma now. Not my grandmother, but my friend's. See, here in the trailer park, whatever friend you hang out with, instead of calling them "So-and-so's Mom," or, "Mr. What-have-you," you just call them "Mommy" and "Daddy". And sometimes, "Grandma". So I walked past AJ's house, headed for the front of the trailer park. There's an office building to sit behind, but one more stop first.
I never go to Bobby's alone, and with the chance that Chris is there, my attempt is just stupid, but I close the gate quietly and wonder if anyone's home. I knock once, and give up. I don't really want to be there. And he's not there, so what's the point ?
I walk back the way I came, cutting across the front of the lawn. What must the drivers on Route 1 think of me ? In full blue jeans on such a hot day ? Oh well, I guess I will never know what anyone thinks, except for when they think I'm not listening, and the whispers come pouring into my head. The office building seems too light. I want somewhere secluded to sit and stare out, not have to worry about stopping in the middle of a street and getting killed. I'm fucked up enough to do just that right about now.
Walking down the street, I see Jeremy's house. I remember there, so long we spent watching Kenny on guitar. They were brothers. And I think they hated each other. But I like to think different. I'm not going there, no one's there anymore. I'm going past Dan's house. Gods, he's such an asshole. I remember when I used to be there a lot too. But his van's not there; he must be out with Bianca. I miss her the most. "Keep walking. That's right, keep walking." I think someone is talking about me. I glance around a little, still walking forward. His brother is talking at me. I hear his voice. I remember him from down the hall, telling us to turn the computer noise down. Computer games. That's all we ever did really. Until he met her. And took her from me. No. One leg in front of the other, I can't see his brother anywhere. He's not here, but his voice continues, propelling me forward.
Shady...where I got lectured a few years back for smoking. 4/20 an amazing day every year. Just lovely. Days just like today, only I'm not alone. I hate this being alone, when I get paranoid and the thoughts keep coming up. I hate it.
The grass is so green. A radio is playing at his parent's house, and he's shingling ...shingling ? Putting those sides on the trailer. They're trying to make it look fancy, but it's still just a fucking trailer. The porch is almost done, and I walked right over here after school. I want to drag him off the ladder and pull him to his room, feel nice and lay beside him, touching everywhere with the music playing in the background. On my iPod. Not a radio, there is no radio on. He finished the house years ago, I was there. He moved out. That house is empty, his parents are always out drunk somewhere.
No one is there, no one is laughing. I wish the thought rush would stop, I've been moving and damn if I didn't wish the memories would stop following me. I just can't seem to outrun them sometimes. I don't like it. The park is coming up, I see the kids on the benches. The Teenagers. They're all so old to us, already in high school. No one talks to them, no one messes with them, and they ignore us. They look so powerful though, being two or three years older then us. It seems like so much time...seemed like such a long, long time. But I'm a Teenager too. I'm old now too. It seemed like just a minute ago there were so many older people around, and me looking on at awe, thinking I'd never be like them, wondering what the hell they did and how much fun they had with more freedom. Well, this sucks.
If pot and walking around feeling out of it and alone, trying to ignore the hallucinations was all they were ever doing, and I just followed right along the line, shit. I feel jipped. It always looked so cool, but then those 'long' years went by and I turned into this. Now it just doesn't seem so great. I wish I still had some of the innocence as I did back then. I can't understand where in the hells it went. But I stroll on, the shadows on the benches watching me silently. Bastards. You could have warned me.
There is someone here though, a guy. Not a man. He's yelling into his phone about no one ever calling him, no one ever picking up his calls. He threatens to break his phone, mad that he has no friends. I can see why, with the way he's carrying on, and I think to myself, 'if he has no one, and no one will call or pick up his calls, whoever is he yelling at on the phone ?' His words fade off as I continue, turning from him. I feel a little better, I think. I am no so pathetic as I was a moment ago. There is a woman walking past me. 'Oh Gods, she's pregnant.' And she's just a Teenager. What a pity, what a shame. Her life is over and she's just a Teenager.
I shake my head and judge her and keep walking.
I'm skipping between trailers when I see movement, a person sitting on the steps. 'Don't look, keep walking, he won't mind you cutting through his yard, he's not even real.' But he is real, he's sitting there, an actual person like the two in the park. Sitting, eating something. He's obese, a disgusting obese, folding over himself falling all over the stair, the door is still open, dumping cool air out into the sticky heat over his grotesque body. He watches me with empty eyes and I turn away.
And people wonder why I tell them I've lost all hope in the human race.
I look at the street, and feel my hopes rising. I look at the cars. Maybe ? Just ...maybe ? Tan truck black car red car. No blue truck. Damn. I pause in the street, which way, which way ? Mommy C's...no. I may have to deal with Eve. And I don't need Mommy knowing how out of it I am. I can clear it all for a moment, but then the memories start up or I get lost in a rather convincing day dream. Then she knows. No, not Mommy's.
Not his house, it's only his sister. I don't want to talk to her. Not like this. Where, then ? Home I suppose. She's there but I can just sit on the computer, she won't bother me...much. Ah, well. Not really anywhere else to go. It's right around the corner from his place, and I'm praying that the truck might just happen home at this moment. Wishing with all my might, but he doesn't come. I cut back through the park, and can hear the guy yelling, trying to convince himself there's someone else actually listening on the other line as the girl sits on the bench looking dejected, her swollen belly straining against her shirt. It's so sad. I'm sad for them. Poor, confused people, lost in a life they never asked for or wanted. It's ok, it'll be over for them soon. I can feel it.
I'm up the road and suddenly at the steps. Step, step, step, step, door, step. In the trailer. Step, step, computer. Made it. The room's ceiling is spinning, leaving pretty trails for me to watch. Ok, focus. Computer now, not stoner mode. What to do...firefox. iTunes. Wordpad ? Sure, why not ? I can just sit and type. What about ? My trip. My adventure. We're going on an adventure, Charlie.
My fingers tickle as I type, it feels strange and I sink into this feeling of delirium almost whole-heartedly. There's barely any of me left, and damnit if only he were here so I could better grasp my sanity, damnit. Mom asks me to fold the towels, then the noise goes on in sounds I don't want to even try and comprehend. Heh. I stand, not wanting to fold the damn things but I was supposed to wash them, and didn't do that either. Folding towels is easy, except I keep forgetting the right way to fold them, and the pile ends up looking like, well, like someone like me folded them. I can't control my mind enough to do it all one way. My thoughts are moving much too fast for that.
Little Toker runs over, crouching as she watches me fold. She claws at the bottom of the towel I fold, and I laugh. I'm not upset by her playing, it's not interrupting me any, and I laugh. I am a cat. I feel it in me. I am a cat and laughing as the kitten claws and plays and laughs with me. I laugh as a cat, I laugh because I am everything. I am everything, and feel very sorry for you all as I laugh. Because you will only ever be yourselves. My memories overwhelm me now, I can't remember who I am, who I'm supposed to be. I just grin and stand as I feel everything, and everything feels me. I am whatever I want to be, but only right now will I realize this. The rest of the time, being me, almost seems impossible.
And you, you will never have this moment of knowing, that reality isn't that far from freedom. Reality is revalent, and I'll be damned if someone tries to tell me different. My reality allows me to be everything, and as I smile and keep on, feeling as I do now, my pureness in the belief I know convinces you. You, who will never know this feeling. You'll crave it, but never taste it. And so I pity you, tethered to one form, one consciousness. Maybe one day, you'll feel it too. Maybe, just ...maybe.
She's kneeling, petting the cat. The second cat, the fat one. The one I don't like. I growl at it and she stares up at me, startled. Not like I don't do it every time I see her. Mom rolls her eyes and speaks. And speaks. I watch her mouth form shape after shape, watching in amazement as her face fades through different looks and expressions. Huh. She looks so very strange. I nod once as her lips stop moving; she's looking at me expectantly. I grunt, like my brothers and friends have so often at each other, and the shape-flow continues. I do not know what she's saying, I think standing here tolerating the meaningless droning is good enough on my part. Why, actually listen and I may damage my mind or lose more brain cells then I can afford this early on in life.
She says something worthwhile; "What are you were going ?" She still doesn't make any sense to me, but I've learned to cope with that. I just wonder if anyone sees how crazy she is but me. "AJ's or Eric's," I say smartly while giving the furry demon spawn at my feet the evil eye. Mom just shakes her head and drones. The word "Dinner" stands out and I shrug. "Be back later." Internet slang. Woo-hoo. Suddenly I'm walking, and don't hear the annoying buzz of her complaint noises. Awesome.
The corner is there suddenly, and I'm looking for his truck. Fools hope, that he'd be home so early. But I'm a fool and I can't help but hope sometimes. I turn my back on the empty parking place, and continue down the road. Past the bus stop, my legs still not feeling right beneath me. I just want to sit somewhere, but only stoners and bums sit at the bus stop unless you have friends with you. I don't want to make it that bloody obvious I'm a bit of both at the moment.
Halfway down the street and I grin to myself at my warping world, a little sad that I think I hear the drums at the bus stop. He's not there, I tell myself sternly. That was years ago, the drums are gone. It stops and my own music I can blame for the slight wandering of my mind. I wonder briefly if there was anything else in that bowl but the green, and the thought slides away as I see the SUV. Eh, I don't feel like dealing with Grandma now. Not my grandmother, but my friend's. See, here in the trailer park, whatever friend you hang out with, instead of calling them "So-and-so's Mom," or, "Mr. What-have-you," you just call them "Mommy" and "Daddy". And sometimes, "Grandma". So I walked past AJ's house, headed for the front of the trailer park. There's an office building to sit behind, but one more stop first.
I never go to Bobby's alone, and with the chance that Chris is there, my attempt is just stupid, but I close the gate quietly and wonder if anyone's home. I knock once, and give up. I don't really want to be there. And he's not there, so what's the point ?
I walk back the way I came, cutting across the front of the lawn. What must the drivers on Route 1 think of me ? In full blue jeans on such a hot day ? Oh well, I guess I will never know what anyone thinks, except for when they think I'm not listening, and the whispers come pouring into my head. The office building seems too light. I want somewhere secluded to sit and stare out, not have to worry about stopping in the middle of a street and getting killed. I'm fucked up enough to do just that right about now.
Walking down the street, I see Jeremy's house. I remember there, so long we spent watching Kenny on guitar. They were brothers. And I think they hated each other. But I like to think different. I'm not going there, no one's there anymore. I'm going past Dan's house. Gods, he's such an asshole. I remember when I used to be there a lot too. But his van's not there; he must be out with Bianca. I miss her the most. "Keep walking. That's right, keep walking." I think someone is talking about me. I glance around a little, still walking forward. His brother is talking at me. I hear his voice. I remember him from down the hall, telling us to turn the computer noise down. Computer games. That's all we ever did really. Until he met her. And took her from me. No. One leg in front of the other, I can't see his brother anywhere. He's not here, but his voice continues, propelling me forward.
Shady...where I got lectured a few years back for smoking. 4/20 an amazing day every year. Just lovely. Days just like today, only I'm not alone. I hate this being alone, when I get paranoid and the thoughts keep coming up. I hate it.
The grass is so green. A radio is playing at his parent's house, and he's shingling ...shingling ? Putting those sides on the trailer. They're trying to make it look fancy, but it's still just a fucking trailer. The porch is almost done, and I walked right over here after school. I want to drag him off the ladder and pull him to his room, feel nice and lay beside him, touching everywhere with the music playing in the background. On my iPod. Not a radio, there is no radio on. He finished the house years ago, I was there. He moved out. That house is empty, his parents are always out drunk somewhere.
No one is there, no one is laughing. I wish the thought rush would stop, I've been moving and damn if I didn't wish the memories would stop following me. I just can't seem to outrun them sometimes. I don't like it. The park is coming up, I see the kids on the benches. The Teenagers. They're all so old to us, already in high school. No one talks to them, no one messes with them, and they ignore us. They look so powerful though, being two or three years older then us. It seems like so much time...seemed like such a long, long time. But I'm a Teenager too. I'm old now too. It seemed like just a minute ago there were so many older people around, and me looking on at awe, thinking I'd never be like them, wondering what the hell they did and how much fun they had with more freedom. Well, this sucks.
If pot and walking around feeling out of it and alone, trying to ignore the hallucinations was all they were ever doing, and I just followed right along the line, shit. I feel jipped. It always looked so cool, but then those 'long' years went by and I turned into this. Now it just doesn't seem so great. I wish I still had some of the innocence as I did back then. I can't understand where in the hells it went. But I stroll on, the shadows on the benches watching me silently. Bastards. You could have warned me.
There is someone here though, a guy. Not a man. He's yelling into his phone about no one ever calling him, no one ever picking up his calls. He threatens to break his phone, mad that he has no friends. I can see why, with the way he's carrying on, and I think to myself, 'if he has no one, and no one will call or pick up his calls, whoever is he yelling at on the phone ?' His words fade off as I continue, turning from him. I feel a little better, I think. I am no so pathetic as I was a moment ago. There is a woman walking past me. 'Oh Gods, she's pregnant.' And she's just a Teenager. What a pity, what a shame. Her life is over and she's just a Teenager.
I shake my head and judge her and keep walking.
I'm skipping between trailers when I see movement, a person sitting on the steps. 'Don't look, keep walking, he won't mind you cutting through his yard, he's not even real.' But he is real, he's sitting there, an actual person like the two in the park. Sitting, eating something. He's obese, a disgusting obese, folding over himself falling all over the stair, the door is still open, dumping cool air out into the sticky heat over his grotesque body. He watches me with empty eyes and I turn away.
And people wonder why I tell them I've lost all hope in the human race.
I look at the street, and feel my hopes rising. I look at the cars. Maybe ? Just ...maybe ? Tan truck black car red car. No blue truck. Damn. I pause in the street, which way, which way ? Mommy C's...no. I may have to deal with Eve. And I don't need Mommy knowing how out of it I am. I can clear it all for a moment, but then the memories start up or I get lost in a rather convincing day dream. Then she knows. No, not Mommy's.
Not his house, it's only his sister. I don't want to talk to her. Not like this. Where, then ? Home I suppose. She's there but I can just sit on the computer, she won't bother me...much. Ah, well. Not really anywhere else to go. It's right around the corner from his place, and I'm praying that the truck might just happen home at this moment. Wishing with all my might, but he doesn't come. I cut back through the park, and can hear the guy yelling, trying to convince himself there's someone else actually listening on the other line as the girl sits on the bench looking dejected, her swollen belly straining against her shirt. It's so sad. I'm sad for them. Poor, confused people, lost in a life they never asked for or wanted. It's ok, it'll be over for them soon. I can feel it.
I'm up the road and suddenly at the steps. Step, step, step, step, door, step. In the trailer. Step, step, computer. Made it. The room's ceiling is spinning, leaving pretty trails for me to watch. Ok, focus. Computer now, not stoner mode. What to do...firefox. iTunes. Wordpad ? Sure, why not ? I can just sit and type. What about ? My trip. My adventure. We're going on an adventure, Charlie.
My fingers tickle as I type, it feels strange and I sink into this feeling of delirium almost whole-heartedly. There's barely any of me left, and damnit if only he were here so I could better grasp my sanity, damnit. Mom asks me to fold the towels, then the noise goes on in sounds I don't want to even try and comprehend. Heh. I stand, not wanting to fold the damn things but I was supposed to wash them, and didn't do that either. Folding towels is easy, except I keep forgetting the right way to fold them, and the pile ends up looking like, well, like someone like me folded them. I can't control my mind enough to do it all one way. My thoughts are moving much too fast for that.
Little Toker runs over, crouching as she watches me fold. She claws at the bottom of the towel I fold, and I laugh. I'm not upset by her playing, it's not interrupting me any, and I laugh. I am a cat. I feel it in me. I am a cat and laughing as the kitten claws and plays and laughs with me. I laugh as a cat, I laugh because I am everything. I am everything, and feel very sorry for you all as I laugh. Because you will only ever be yourselves. My memories overwhelm me now, I can't remember who I am, who I'm supposed to be. I just grin and stand as I feel everything, and everything feels me. I am whatever I want to be, but only right now will I realize this. The rest of the time, being me, almost seems impossible.
And you, you will never have this moment of knowing, that reality isn't that far from freedom. Reality is revalent, and I'll be damned if someone tries to tell me different. My reality allows me to be everything, and as I smile and keep on, feeling as I do now, my pureness in the belief I know convinces you. You, who will never know this feeling. You'll crave it, but never taste it. And so I pity you, tethered to one form, one consciousness. Maybe one day, you'll feel it too. Maybe, just ...maybe.