The taste in her mouth was of dirty nickels. She could still feel the warmth and scratchiness of the hot concrete sidewalk against her right cheek. She was bleeding now; dirt and plasma coagulating together into hundreds of tiny scabs across her face and neck.
What did she do wrong this time?
The prior night, she had told her mother that she was moving out. It was a sad conversation. Commuting to a college only twenty minutes away, she had planned on living at home to save up money. Save up for what? She didn’t know, yet, but she knew that she had to, because that’s what adults do. And soon enough she would be an adult. But she met a friend in college, whose life was more tainted and sad than hers. They were inseparable. She found herself defending Maria’s quirks to the other students at school. “You don’t know what she’s been through. Stop making fun of her!”
Maria’s father was involved in a sketchy Mafia-esque drug deal. He hated his life. He hated putting his family in danger – so much so that he shot and killed himself. Killed himself to get his family away from the life he was leading. Ironically enough, Maria’s mother was killed in a grocery store parking lot a week later. Maria’s life was worse, she kept reminding herself.
The two decided to move in together, as best friends. When she told her mom about her plans, her mom started to cry. “Why? Why don’t you want to live here anymore?” She tried to make her feel guilty….? Or was she being genuinely sad about her daughter’s plunge into the real world? “Because I hate living here,” was all she said. She loved her mom.
The next day was the first day of her junior year in college. She came home, after spending over $500 in books at the bookstore. Carrying in the heavy load, she met her father at the dining room table. She sat the stack down and got a drink of water. Placing the glass in the sink, she eyed her father walking over to the yellow tearing plastic bags of books. “I just got done washing the damn dishes!” he barked. “All I do is pick up after you damn kids all day long. Lazy slobs!”
It was her mistake. She replied back, “If you didn’t wash one dish at a time, you wouldn’t have to do the dishes fifty times a day.”
“Did I ask your opinion!? Don’t talk to me like that!” For a seventy-year-old man, he was still healthy and strong. The years of working as a police officer did it. He leapt at her in four steps and knocked the pile of books off the table. “CLEAN UP YOUR FUCKING MESS YOU FAT WHORE!”
He started calling her a whore when she told her mom about an abnormal female problem. When her mom found out she was no longer a virgin, her father retaliated and forever called her a whore.
She picked up the books, now with bent pages, and headed to her bedroom. Her sanctuary. She spent 90% of her life in the four corners of her bedroom. Physically and emotionally shaken from her father’s crash, she started crying too loudly. He came inside her room and threw the dirty glass she drank out of at her. “Wash your goddam dishes!”
She got up off her bed and started to say something to her father. But she remembered the rule. Do not speak unless asked. She assumed that classical conditioning is what made her so soft-spoken and passive with the rest of her life. She had so much to say about so much in life, but kept everything inside to herself. This forced introversion, she would find, would fuck up a lot of relationships and cause every major communication error she would have for the rest of her life.
She pushed past her father, throwing the glass at his feet in retaliation. Stupidly, she walked out without her car keys, but ran to the door anyway, craving to get out of the house. She tripped out the door, onto the bench on the front porch. He walked calmly outside after her and she got up and tried to run again. But she tripped again, falling onto the gritty sidewalk, scratching all up and down her face and neck, her hands also with abrasions. Trying to regain control, she moved to stand up as he was spitting on her.
Just in time for her mother to come home. “WHAT is going on?” She always said it.
“I HATE LIVING HERE! THIS IS WHY I’M LEAVING!!”
She ran back inside.
At the bathroom sink, now, she dabbed her burning face with a cool washcloth, thinking, “What did I do wrong this time?”
It would be a few days before the excoriations would heal on her face, before she could visit her friends without being questioned and having to fake smiles.
What did she do wrong this time? [October 3, 2008]

cameron

That dom stare when he’s looking up at me, or down at me. Or when he’s making me look up at him or down on him. When we are doing nothing and he grabs my chin or pulls my hair back to him. Then it changes the situation. I must answer to him. I am his desire and his asking turns me on.

Daddy’s naughty deviant fucking little girl has been bad today.

But it’s more than being turned on. It’s feeling wanted and desired; in love, or like. Or something not quite black and white, but gray…with black and blue bruises. It’s a feeling of intensity. Longing and missing, so much that it makes me cry every night. Even so right now. I don’t know how he lets me let myself go, while holding on to me. I hold on to him, because “hugs are the best.” I feel secure, as I slip my arms under his shirt, and he squeezes back. He squeezes my tears out, and I cry all the way home. Seven hours home. But I feel at home with him and I can’t go a day, an hour, a minute or a moment without thinking about him. That silly boy with two names. With strong arms and a big heart. And those ways that make me laugh. And that dom stare when he’s looking up at me, or down at me. My desire. Mine. [May 18, 2008]

I took a shower with my socks on today
With salty water running down the drain.

Stepping out after I had bathed
I closed the blinds all day today
For melon skies over a sunrise lake
Reminds me too much of a friend I made.

The lake is the ocean with a creature inside.
I need protection from the gaze in his eyes.
He’s swimming to get me, awake in my bed.
Attacking my heart, instead of my head.

He bites so deep, I can’t even breathe;
His tails engulf me, I can’t even see.
I taste only him, I smell only him.
All I can feel is hot, sticky skin.

He goes for my heart and he tries to fight me.
He sucks the blood that’s resisting inside me.
I thrash and I kick, but to no avail.
He stole my heart, not leaving a trail.

I woke up and ran through the door to my right
Denying the pain of the prior night’s fight.
Only hot water, my skin starts to burn;
Hurting less than the creature’s desiring yearn.

I took a shower with my socks on today.
If you love something, just give it away. [July 26, 2008]

rick

we were laying on the hill with a three-foot gap between us --
just enough room for him to squeeze in the middle.

and he grabbed my hand
and played with my hair.

and the whole time i was worried
about what he would say
because he was right next to us.

inebriated, i thought he couldn't see,
but he saw.

i didn't care.

i care now.

and i messed up so badly.
and the talking is going so slowly. [July 18, 2006]

I hate that he's doing this to me, and that I'm doing this to myself. I don't need anymore stress in my life right now.

If it were any of my friends, I would have told them to move on; he's controlling your life. I wait for his phone call every night, even if it's just to have him there as I fall asleep. And he asks me if I'm gonna fall asleep on him again, and I lie to him, and tell him no. And he knows I'm lying. [September 24, 2006]

kramer

so i'm gonna be completely blunt and personal here. last night was the weirdest experience of my life, considering my best friend witnessed the whole act. i never thought i would have sex with that boy, but i guess that's what you do when you've had so much to drink that you're still drunk at 7 in the morning. [January 15, 2006]

sometimes i think that every day with him exacerbates every bad feeling i've had before. it makes me wonder if i'm really worth sometone's time and heart for a real relationship. i find myself waking up partially unclothed, shivering, and alone, only to wonder if maybe i was alone that whole night. i can easily see why people say they're in love right after sex, because i know crazy thoughts like that have popped into my head, but i reason mmy way out of it. nonetheless, i wish i could have the freedom to say, think, and feel emotions like that, but it's against our only rule. and i'm not okay with this. it breaks my heart every time he tells me about the foolishness of love, because it's something i want so badly. [March 6, 2006]

On my way home, I saw a shooting star that was like none other. It was the size of a quarter moon, with its tail longer than none I've ever seen before. It blazed across the sky for several seconds, and disappeared only after I made a wish. I wished and wished and wished, harder than I've ever wished before. And I'm just hoping that this time, maybe this time, it will come true. [June 11, 2006]

nick

everyone i see in the day makes me not sleep at night. and, for once in my life--for the very first time in my life, i love that. [February 28, 2005]

i think he's gone. i haven't heard from him in over a month. at first, i thought i didn't care, but you just become curious. i care not because i care, but because i wonder. i wonder if he will ever get those damn peach trees in his backyard. i wonder if i will ever find what he told me i'm destined to find. i really hope i do, because i get so sad sometimes. [April 20, 2005]

untitled

The parts that make everything so complicated are all the hard and soft feelings involved; it's so touch-and-go because so much is at stake. Re-evaluating, ruminating, it's all so I can make shit easier to deal with. It's hard to remain magnanimous and so candid when all I want is to end a conversation as the victor. However, it's not a battle of words or guilt trips. The embitterment you sense is not directed towards you at all, but at myself. I never wanted to point fingers and blame you for my actions, but I think that is how I am coming across. Because of your resolve, you did the right thing and pissed me off. You fucking pissed me off so much more than I have ever been in my entire life.

My mom asked me why I was crying, and I actually felt a flashback. She used the same words she used when I was in sixth grade, then in tenth grade: "Were mean words said?"

Mean words were said, and I never felt worse in my entire life. I have dealt so much in high school with feelings and ways of getting my emotions across. What saddens me the most is that all that hard work, all those hours sitting in an empty room with a man who really didn't care about me at all, were useless. You can't pay a therapist any amount of money to teach you to love, trust, and befriend.

I thought about what I was going to say, I said it, and I regretted it, because I didn't get the reaction I was expecting. I have to deal with how I feel about myself. I AM NOT blaming you for the way I feel. My morose stems from the fact that I am not who I want to be. Within the past month and a half, two people have told me that I am wrong, and that I don't know who I am. Everything I thought I was passionate for isn't sound enough to stand unrestrained. I got angry at him; I got angry at her; I am angry at myself.

This drama within myself is hurting people. "There will always be hurt somewhere." I am repentant and conscience-stricken.

[March 28, 2005]

"anger in an ongoing tragedy"

i know all about you.

what i once perceived as guiding and resolute, is now fallible and anemic. you have no fucking clue about anything; you never did, and you never will because you are a simple-minded, fragile human being.

i did my own growing up. despite the fact that others love you, you showed me nothing about learning, loving, or living. i wish i could say that i want to show you how much you failed, but i can't say that because that breaks my heart. i feel bad for you, and it makes me cry.

my only question is if everyone else feels this way. i've tried and tried to repress it all, but holding it in much longer would render me dishonest. i want it to fix.

i feel angry, hurt, cheated, and too responsible. maybe it always was my fault.

i'm drinking out of your blue crystal chalice, and there's nothing you can do to stop me because there are no rules.

[September 10, 2004]