because everything looks sad under blue-tinted glass
tears that never fall out
drive me crazy because:
i can feel them, but
you can’t see them
so i’m not “sad”
but i am, i am
when was it enough
i can’t move, tangled in thought
i don’t care enough to
everyone else is happy, do i need to be there?
it hurts, it hurts
blue sky is happy? no, just too bright
i want to not care
want to laugh
without the precursor of “not annoying”
i fall faster
but i don’t want to stop
For those of you who don’t know, monostitches are poems with only one line, and they’re very VERY hard to make (for me at least).
she cried, and they watched, motionless.
cold eyes and a colder heart were all that remained.
i’m waiting for my forever
they said no, and i cared too much
bright lights, bright eyes, dark past, dark future
he smiled, golden, but nothing was perfect
i’ve flown too far to fall now
she waited for something i was never going to say, never
what are we to do when happiness has become a mere memory?
By the time we get to school, I have mostly stopped crying. Vic takes me to the bathroom, where they help me wipe my face off. My dark eyes are rimmed with red and my ponytail is sticking up all over the place from Vic’s (supposedly comforting) petting. The crack in the mirror jags its way across my face.
I am broken. We are all broken.
Only some of us can be fixed.
I’m sitting in science, looking up definitions for our vocabulary worksheet when I hear Irene’s stage whisper behind me.
“She thinks she’s so cool, with her glasses and hair and her hoodies when all she is is a nerd with a punk girlfriend,” she hisses. I stiffen. Vic is not a girl. Even I, queen of oblivious existence, have understood that much. I want to tell just that much to her face, but Irene has turned around, flipping her auburn hair into my face.
I imagine her satisfied smirk. I imagine wiping it clean off her face. I imagine stopping her.
n o t a v a i l a b l e
ispiral i nto thed a rkne ss
lo st b ut also fou nd
my sky is finally blue
too blue, too blue
i can dance without rain
nothing stopping me
slow down slow down
dancing without chains
be free, my bird
i’ll dance without pain
i’m more than you
i could be dancing on stars
but i’d still be alone
the moon among clouds
but not nearly as bright
in a world of maybes
i know two things:
you can be surrounded by people and still be alone
alone doesn’t mean happy
//the person who told this to me- i care too much//
//so be quiet, i’m done with everything rn//
that seem to see everything
the weight of unseeable eyes
we can feel even if they tell us
we can’t because
that it’s there
they won’t tell me
maybe i can leave fly
to a place far enough away
that they won’t associate my name
with the weight of negativity
i wish i had done something more
but if i had
would there only be more to my name?
it was never the endearing love
the annoying you call your five-year old brother
it was only ever the annoying that disguised more
Kay comes running up to me, red-faced and out of breath. Her eyes shift around warily. “Um, so, Irene was talking about you a few days ago, and like-”
I already know what’s coming even though I didn’t know before. So many people have done this that it barely surprises me anymore. “She was gossiping.”
Kay shifts guiltily in place. “Yeah.”
I want to be angry at her, but I know it isn’t her fault. “So, can you leave me alone now, or what.” It isn’t a question, it’s an order.
She scurries off. I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me, but it’s me who has to live with it, right?
Later that morning, Irene greets me with a wave and a smile, but I don’t move. How can you look me in the eye and pretend to be kind without any guilt? With my glare, she knows. We still talk, but it isn’t the same.
It shouldn’t be the same.
they tell me that they didn’t have a choice
so i know they mean “you do”
but i don’t, not really, not under their terms
so i break the chains they’ve set for me
enough with society, if we listened to them
nothing would change in a world that desperately needs it
it’s never easy…
there are times when i want to give up
cry into my pillow
but there’s always a time to get up again
i’m going to say the same things they told me
but they don’t mean the same things
because they come from a person who hasn’t done enough
(at least i did what i wanted to)
their options are fine, until they’re not
but we can’t wait for that
it’s time to rise
once upon a time the sky was grey
and our future was cloudy and unknown,
so we hoped for rain
because maybe we could get a turn of luck for once,
but it didn’t rain, so we sat outside
on the cold concrete (not wet)
waiting for something that we knew
would never happen as long as we wanted it
so you said, let’s go inside,
and i said, i’ll wait,
but you went inside anyways,
and never came out,
so i waited alone, patiently, for both you
and the rain, even though i knew it wasn’t worthwhile,
because what are we without hopes,
but the memory of happiness?