Parents Exist

This weekend was parents’ weekend at my college. It was very weird to say the least. I had become very used to being on my own. My mom and stepdad came Friday night, and it was like I had never left. I had a ton of things to tell my mom, but that was nothing new. I’ve always been able to talk to her. Then on Saturday my dad, stepmom, and two step brothers came up to campus. It was so weird because (and this is no secret) I don’t have the best relationship with my dad and stepmom. I have very bad memories of when I was forced to go to their house a lot. I’m not going to go into details, that’s something for a different post, but I swear I was surrounded by eggshells the whole weekend.

My dad and stepmom did everything they could to look like the picture perfect parents, right down to showing up all decked out in clothes that bore my college’s name. They had brought me a bag of snacks and a new shirt. They took me to a park and the five of us walked around and took pictures and talked about nothing. The talk couldn’t have been smaller. I felt like a child from a family portrait come to life. Everything felt so fake and forced. I didn’t know how to react or what to do.

There isn’t much of a point to this post. I’m now realizing that I don’t know what to feel or think about last weekend. All I know is that when I don’t write things down, sometimes they cease to be real. I put plastic and paint over memories to make them look nicer. If I don’t write things down, I doubt myself.

Speaking of writing things down, I’ve never really known what to do with my poetry and stories. I just kept writing and writing them. I think I’d like to compile them into a book. I don’t imagine being published or anything, I think I’d just rather like having them all together. That being said, I wouldn’t be opposed to trying to get such a collection published. I wouldn’t have any clue where to start (if any of you do know, please do share!), but I know that it will never happen if I never try to make it happen. It would be a lot of busy work hunting down all my poems and stories, so it could take a while, but I think it’s worth it. Even if I’m the only one to ever read the thing, I think it would bring me some peace to have all these demons, memories, and fantasies stitched together.

Let me know what you guys think!

-AcuteAnimosity

No Title

Here’s a new story for you all as promised! I haven’t got a title for it yet, but maybe you guys can suggest one for me. I hope you enjoy, it’s pretty rough, and I’m open to revising.

 

My throat burns and acid is forced up and out of my mouth. It splashes into the toilet, little, wet drops land on my face. I cough and slick, leftovers fling off my lips. Nothing makes it go away. My friends compliment me, my boyfriend loves me, my mom cries, but I can’t stop thinking that it’s easier this way.

Melanie looked like she was fading away. She looked like the wind could pass through her skin and fall on me when I stood behind her. Her thin wrists proudly showcased the bluest veins I’d ever seen. The bruises beneath her eyes gave her the appearance of gentle decay. Melanie made her choice, but she didn’t make a pretty corpse.

When I met Melanie, she could’ve already been dead. It was clear she was at the end of her road, while I was just beginning my trip. Everyone thinks there’s hope, that there’s a light lurking behind each week that passes. The secret is that there is no getting better. There’s just surviving long enough to get your family’s hopes up.

I’ve been in and out of the hospital for two years. The doctors keep trying to shove my body into remission, but the cancer keeps coming back. The chemo is a time bomb in my stomach, I can’t keep any food in for long. I refused to shave my head so I look like a doll who’s been loved too much by a child. The bruises that paint my body are crayola marker explosions.

When someone with cancer dies of cancer people say they’ve “lost their battle” and they “fought bravely.” When someone with cancer decides they want to end their life, only other cancer patients go to their funeral. We drag our oxygen tanks out of the white world that is the cancer ward and sit in silence during their services. Where’s their family then? Where are the people who admired them before? They are sitting home, disgusted that the cancer patient “didn’t even want to try” upset that they “chose to leave them rather than fight.”

No one but other patients understand why we would decide to commit suicide rather than try and beat cancer. Even the hardiest of patients who chose to keep going through the same chemo routine year after year, have thought about ending it on their own terms once or twice.

That’s because while non-patients see it as giving up and leaving, we know that it’s the ultimate fight. It’s ending our lives with dignity, it’s being ourselves till the very end. The choice to end our lives is something the cancer can’t take away. It may take our vanity, our autonomy, our job, our strength, but it can’t take our choice to die the way we want to.

I won’t be alive to see my own funeral, but I already know what it will look like. My family won’t put an obituary in the paper, too ashamed. It will be a private event, but a few of the patients in the ward will make it anyway. The patients will be jealous and love me. My family, the few members who show up anyway, will be full of hatred. Behind those opaque tears rests the disdain for me. I left them. They loved me as best they could, and I left them.

At first I tried to get my family to understand why I wanted to die. I gave up after a few months of begging and pleading for them to truly step in my shoes. They kept saying that if they were in my position, they would stay. My shoes are just too small for them to try on.

I stand up from the tile floor as a nurse rushes in and fusses over me. I never push the nurse call button. If I’m going to vomit, I’m going to do it alone rather than  with someone holding a plastic bin under my chin. The nurse helps me back into bed and asks if I need anything. I don’t answer. She knows my answer. I need to die, and I’m going to. In nine days I will be dead. I’ve already stopped living though. I haven’t spoken to anyone in days, and I’ve barely eaten. Maybe I’ll die before the physician even has a chance to do his job. Thankfully, you can’t regret anything from the grave.

 

-AcuteAnimosity

Drawing Board

Okay, I’m going to attempt to write a brand new story. I’m looking up prompts because I’m no good at just writing. I need an idea. However, after looking up many prompts, they all seem a bit silly. They seem more like something that I would want to write about if I were giving my mind a fun vacation. I think I’m going to try either a flash fiction (the post “Wow” is a flash fiction piece) or another poetry and prose piece (“Story Time” and “Something New” are poetry and prose pieces). I think those are how I best write stories. I’ve tried writing stories in verse (like an Ellen Hopkins kind of thing), but I end up just writing poetry. At this point I’m just stalling because I’m not creative enough to just write a story. So I think I want to write flash fiction (because it’s shorter). I honestly don’t know what to write about though.

When I write stories I get a picture. For my previous flash fiction “Sitting in my Chair” I saw a young girl gripping the bottom of a chair so tightly her knuckles were white, but her face was innocent and calm. For the story “Girls Like Us” I saw a girl squinting in the light of the passenger mirror thing with makeup streaming down her pale face. I keep trying to make a new picture, but mostly it’s just blank. If anything, I see white lace. I think I’m going to attempt to write about a wedding because of the lace, but we will see how that goes. If you guys have any ideas always feel free to share with me.

I’m also in the middle of writing a new poem, but it’s a very intense poem. I only have a little of it written, and I already know it’s going to be heavy on the metaphors. Wish me luck! Okay, so who knows what my next post will be. It may be an update, a poem, or even a story! I’m excited to find out. Until next time

-AcuteAnimosity

Story Time

This is another story that has poetry and prose. I actually wrote this in creative writing class. I was assigned the poetry part (which is in italics), and it’s a quote by Shel Silverstein. I’ve been getting really positive feedback on my short stories so I’m going to keep posting them. This may actually be the last story I have already written to post because the others I wrote in creative writing are just way too long. I really hope you all enjoy this, and tell me what you think! I am working on more stories, but since I’ve always been more of a poetry girl, it may be a bit of a wait.

 

 

My ears popped as I shot out of the water like a bullet. “I touched the bottom! I went all the way down!” I shouted with a dopey smile on my face. No one can swim better than me. Everyone knows it too. When it comes time to pick swim buddies, every camper sprints to my side because they know I’ll take them out all the way to the edge of the deep.

She had blue skin

            “Get back from the rope!” a shrill whistle shatters my ears. Okay, maybe I went a little beyond the rope, but I was underwater, how was I supposed to know they could see me all the way out here. I don’t even know why there’s a rope, I should be allowed to swim all the way across the lake because I’m that good.

And so did he

“Buddy check!” a counselor screams. I roll my eyes back till it hurts and then do a quick spin to find Jonny. He’s the fastest kid in all the camp. Everyone wants him on their team when it’s relay day, but he isn’t the best swimmer, so I left him back in the middle area.

He kept it hid

“Jonny! Get over here, it’s buddy check time,” I said while tilting my head to the side to drain the water. “Jonny?” I looked all around and saw that everyone else had found their buddy and was standing with their arms locked and in the air like champions. I didn’t see Jonny anywhere.

And so did she

            Panic crammed its way down my throat like lake water when you dive with your mouth open. I always find my buddy. I’ve been coming to camp every year since forever, and I’ve never lost my buddy. I start frantically waving my arms in the air and screaming “Jonny! Jonny!”

They searched for blue

            Lifeguards swan dived off their tall thrones and began the search. All the kids climbed up the ladder and on to the dock. All the kids except me, I wasn’t leaving Jonny behind. I aimed my head down and blew air out of my nose as I went down to the dark bottom of the lake.

Their whole life through

            My arm smacked into something hard and cold. It’s an anchor and wrapped around the anchor was string, no not string. Jonny’s long brown hair was tangled around the chain of this old anchor. As scream bubbled out of my mouth as I finally felt his squishy arm.

Then passed right by-

            My ears popped as I shot out of the water like a bullet.

And never knew

            I stopped swimming that day, but years later and I swear there’s still water in my ear.

-AcuteAnimosity

College Confessions

Okay guys, I think this is important, especially for any people who are planning on attending a college in the near future. I want to tell you all about college, the good, the bad, the magical, the ugly. Here goes

• There is so much yummy, junky food (pizza!), eat a vegetable now and then so you don’t feel sick.
• You might not be best friends with your roommate, it’s okay, you’ll make other friends. Sometimes people just aren’t compatible, you can still be nice with your roommate though.
• There are going to be so many attractive people, try not to drool. Also, you are one of those attractive people! DOn’t beat yourself up if you don’t look like every other pretty girl/guy there.
• There’s a club for literally everything. Do not try to join all of them. Join one or maybe two clubs first semester and work from there.
• For goodness sakes, be comfortable walking alone. You can’t be surrounded by people 24/7. Walk to class alone, put in earbuds, and just enjoy how pretty campus is. It isn’t healthy to never ever be alone.
• Don’t barricade yourself in your room! (I’m struggling with this one) Go out with friends. Go to the silly school events now and again. You might have a great time, you might meet your best friend. You won’t do that just sitting alone in your room.
• Every free second is good for reading. Always carry a school book with you because you might end up early for something, get that homework done!
• The first friend you make, might not be your best friend forever. That’s okay!
• It might take you a while to find your people. It happens, but you will find them.
• Don’t party excessively. Take it easy.
• When you first get to college, it can feel like your high school friends don’t care anymore. They do, I promise! They are going through the same thing as you right now, believe me, come vacation time, you guys will reconnect.
• It can feel like you don’t have anyone to talk to the first few weeks. Something might happen, like a death in the family, or something else not good. It feels like you can’t really talk to your friends yet because you haven’t known them long enough. Give your mom or dad or someone home a call if you need to talk and can’t. Also, RAs will talk to you! They are there to help you and be your friend.
• Make. Your. Bed. Everyday. You will feel so much better after a long stressful day if you come home to a neat looking room. A messy room after a bad day will only make you feel worse.
• Cool it with the caffeine. You actually do need some sleep now and then.
• Don’t feel bad for dressing nicely everyday. If that is what makes you confident, then wear that dress! Also, don’t feel bad if you go to class in your pjs, no one actually cares. If anything, they wish they were in their pjs too.
• Everyone wears shirts and pants and sweatshirts and everything with their college name on it. Trust me, you won’t look like a dork.
• Bring a stuffed animal and/or body pillow. Just do it, it will come in handy some day when you need a good hug and cry.
• Everyone cries, everyone.
• Don’t feel bad when people have to ask you your name, major, and where you’re from a million times. It’s easy to forget. You’ll end up asking it too.
• Fundecided is okay! College is the time to figure out what you want to do and who you want to be.
• Talk! To! Your! Advisor!
• Not everyone is having sex or hooking up with a lot of people, you don’t have to. Also, it’s okay to have sex or hook up with people (with consent)! Do what makes you happy and what you are ready for.
• It’s okay to not be a party person, seriously, you don’t have to drink or smoke or do anything you don’t want to do.
• There are so many resources available for you. If, God forbid, something happens to you, get help. Future you will thank you for it. ❤
• Ask questions, be curious, try something new, be a little bit selfish, be a bit weird and crazy. This is your time to do things for you!
• Lastly, have fun! Not every moment will be perfect so don’t expect that, but make the most of this time. I’m not going to say these will be the best years of your life, because frankly that’s so stupid, but I will say that you can have an amazing college experience. Life, and college, is what you make of it. Choose to make it beautiful.

-AcuteAnimosity

Wow

Seven people liked my last post. That may seem so small to other people, but it’s huge to me. I’m going to post another short story because the last got a pretty good reception for a blog as small as mine. I do have to warn you though, this story can be a little triggering to anyone who has experienced abuse or have someone close to them who has experienced it. I would absolutely love to hear from you guys, so leave a comment telling me what you think about my story. Here goes nothing and everything.

Sitting in my Chair

            I am the best at not flinching in my entire school. Kids on the playground clap in my face, but I don’t move. Older kids jump at me in the hallway, but nothing can make me step back, eyes closed, scared. It’s my favorite talent.

Another slaps goes across my face. I sit as still as silence. My talent is more useful than just being a cool trick.

“What did I tell you? You just have to disobey me, don’t you?” His big hand finds my face in the dark again. My face is red and wet like the spaghetti sauce on my white cotton shirt. I only made it pink and blotchy by scrubbing at it in the sink at Olive Garden. I thought I could fix it. I always think it’s that easy, but it never is.

“All I wanted was a nice, family dinner, and you embarrassed me like this? You think that’s okay? You can’t even eat without acting like a pig.” My hands grip the bottom of my chair. I’ve worn little bumps into my chair from holding it so hard.

Little bumps pop up on daddy’s face too. I connect them with the dots in my eyes and make pictures. A red horse, a red house, a red mouse. Mama keeps reminding me about daddy’s name. The one that we all carry. We have to keep his name clean. Mama always protects daddy; she really loves him.

I start humming the song we learned in school. I love school more than tv and ice cream. Mrs. Wilson looks like the teacher from Matilda. She’s pretty and sings lightly in class-

“Shut up!” Daddy doesn’t like when I make too much noise, but I keep humming. It’s a soft song, and I memorized it so easy because it rhymes. Mrs. Wilson taught us all about rhymes. Wrong and song, Stop and plop, and No and go.

“I’ll shut you up,” he says and mama looks at me. It’s the first time all night. She used to leave the room when I had to sit in my chair, but now she stands in the corner and traces the floor with her foot. She sees me for a second, just a second, before she turns and leaves the room, always protecting daddy.

He holds my shoulders. I shake back and forth and back and forth and back. My head bobs for apples in the air, and I come up with nothing. Nothing and no one is here. There’s no daddy or mama, and there’s no me.

I don’t open my eyes, but I feel my chest go up and down. I don’t even have to move. Mommy whispers for me to just rest. I see nothing again. The long beep doesn’t touch me because I am already gone. It’s almost like I was never here.

-AcuteAnimosity

Something New

A friend has encouraged me to post a short story of mine so um, yeah, here it is. The things in italics are song lyrics.

Girls like Us

          The trees blur as we fly. Our headlights clear our path and protect us like the Light of God. Laughter forces its way out of my throat and it burns my liquor stained insides. My eyes can see everything that’s ever happened on this backroad. I watch the sloppy, late night make out sessions that fog the windows of high schoolers’ crappy cars and the hippies smoking pot in their RVs. He looks at me with a smile that could make a sober girl drunk and flings his hand into my direction. I grasp it with any strength I have in my loose body.

We’ve broken our mirrors

Sunday morning is every day for all I care

And I’m not scared

Light my candles in a daze

Cause I’ve found God

The radio blares, but I don’t even hear it. I’m too busy listening to the sound of our breath as it accelerates in time with the car. He hears the music because his hand leaves a gaping hole in mine as he reaches for the dial. He flips it like a quarter and it lands on heads.

Nothing to prove and I’m bulletproof and

Know what I’m doing

The way we’re movin’ like introducing

Us to a new thing

I wanna savor, save it for later

The taste of flavor, ’cause I’m a taker

‘Cause I’m a giver, it’s only nature

I live for danger

I’m not sure if he’s driving slowly or if I’m living in slow motion, but it makes me feel warm like hit of crystal. It makes me crave more, so I reach back for my piece. He rewards me with another smile, he must’ve been feeling it too. I’m handed a lighter from the glovebox, and it isn’t long before I feel the heat of a first inhale. He holds his big hand out expectantly. This time I’m the one reaching for the radio. My hip glides across the dial while I hand him the light bulb-pipe and a kiss on his cheek.

We live where the war is raging

Chasing our crazy dreams

Hoping that the bridge won’t cave in

Tonight we let it all go free

He rubs my kiss off his face. I get sloppy when I’m high. He leans his head back and so do I. My head feels too heavy to keep balanced on my thin, purple neck. I flick open my passenger mirror and wince at the sudden light that assaults my bloodshot eyes. I look like hell. My charcoal eyeliner is pasted in a watercolor river down my face. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

But I don’t care what they say

I’m in love with you

They try to pull me away

But they don’t know the truth

My heart’s crippled by the vein

That I keep on closing

You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding love

He keeps switching stations. He gets frustrated easily and the parties bring that out. Even mad, he’s my sun, and I can’t help but stare. He slurs something that sounds like “I love you babe,” and I melt. It’s the first song we listen too fully, and we croak out the lyrics, or at least the ones we remember. It’s beautiful, and everything is red and pink like the drug store discount isle on February 15th.

Feelin’ lit, feelin’ light, 2 AM summer night.

I don’t care, hand on the wheel, driving drunk, I’m doin’ my thing

Rollin the Midwest side and out livin’ my life getting’ out dreams

People told me slow my roll I’m screaming out f-

The next song starts and I slam the dial to turn it off. The silence devours the car. I hear him push the gas pedal down further. He hates the silence, especially during a high. He says people talk too much in the silence. I don’t hear it, but he’s always experienced life more fully that I have. He jerks the wheel to the left, and the car lurches in the same direction to catch up. I rush to the radio dial and give it a spin.

Gina dreams of running away

When she cries in the night

Tommy whispers,

“Baby, it’s okay, someday…”

His eyes are closed. I slap his face and in return I get a slap back. It’s only fair. I keep seeing her die. The girl at the party, but she was shooting more than we are. She was in so much pain, but I saw the smirks in her eyes. I pushed the corners of her mouth up to match. For a minute it was a mirror. Sirens stabbed the party, and I was running to the car. I never had the chance to find out her name. The sirens in my memory materialize. Our dream shatters. Red and blue blurs and melts in my vision. The colors drip down my makeup river, but we don’t slow down.

Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry

Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough

I don’t know why

Keep making me laugh

Let’s go get high

The road is long, we carry on

Try to have fun in the meantime

‘Cause you and I

We were born to die

I wonder if the officer can hear the music too. I hear each note like how Beethoven would listen to his own masterpieces if he could’ve been given a cochlear implant. I know what he’s doing. I sing with Lana Del Rey and hope that I’m saying the right words. I’ve never felt a song so deeply in my bones. I reach for his hand one last time as he drags the wheel to the right. All in the same second the road vanishes. It’s replaced by Mother Nature, she sends tree roots out to catch us. She wants to bring me home. The radio still plays while we race into the woods. My heart has never worked so fast, all this time and it turns out the greatest high is the one that death brings. Glass flies past my eyes and metal crunches on all sides of me. Warm blood flows freely from our still-intertwined hands. The radio has died, but so have I. I still hear the music, the songs my mother sang to me.

The day she died the neighbors came to snicker

“Well, that’s what comes from too much pills and liquor”

But when I saw her laid out like a Queen

She was the happiest corpse, I’d ever seen

What good’s permitting some prophet of doom

To wipe every smile away

Life is a cabaret, old chum

So come to the cabaret

I wonder if they will even tell her what’s become of her daughter. I wish I could tell her what waits behind the corner of death for girls like us, but there isn’t any time left. I hold the music in my child-like hands and wait.

 

 

Lithium Nirvana, Livin on a Prayer Bon Jovi, Dangerous Woman Arianna Grande, Light it Up Major Lazer, Bleeding Love Leona Lewis, Born to Die Lana Del Rey, Cabaret Liza Minnelli

That’s a list of the songs in the story (not in order). Okay so um, please tell me what you think of it. I didn’t plan on ever putting up any short stories, but if you guys like them, I have more that I can share.

-AcuteAnimosity

 

 

Musical Theater Club

Okay! I am starting this post before I go to my first Musical Theater Club meeting. I’m super duper nervous to say the least. I can’t wait to find out what musical numbers I’m in though. I don’t want to say too much because I’m not too sure what exactly is going to happen. Alrighty, stopping here, be back soon!

I’m a little late! Musical Theater Club let out about two hours ago, but I really just didn’t know what to say. Everyone there was super awesome, they went over stuff for us new kids and then they called numbers. Everything is student run in this club. So the kids who have been in the club the longest get to ask to direct numbers first. There are 6 available spots for open numbers, 2 spots for open girl numbers, and 2 spots for open guy numbers. The rest are closed numbers that you have to be casted in. We ended up with 4 opens, 2 girl opens, and 2 guy opens. There were a bunch of closed numbers. Next what happens is all of us who want to be in the closed numbers have to sign up online, and then the student directors just pick us. Confusing right?

Anyway, I’m still excited. This was short, sorry. I’m headed to bed though. Good night all!

-AcuteAnimosity

 

Adjusted?

I’ve only been through one week of college, and strangely enough it feels like I’ve been here my whole life. It feels like this is just essentially my normal and has been for a while. It’s hard to imagine that walking through the high school halls wasn’t a completely different life. I barely know six people on campus, but it just feels like I’m used to this. Crying over a textbook for the first time feels more like the millionth time. Nothing here feels incredible novel to me. I’m not sure if that means I’m adjusting well or what, but I’m not too concerned.

Anyway, let me update you all. I have three main friends. Jenny, Madison, and Jerry. Jenny, Madison and I are all friends. We see each other a lot, and we regularly go to dinner and events together. We all live in the same building and on the same floor. It’s a pretty good friendship, though I feel like it has an expiration date. We all are interested in clubs, and once those start I think our friendship won’t be as strong due to the increased friend group to choose from. Nevertheless, I’m very happy to have them as friends, and I do hope the friendship doesn’t expire because they are both really nice and fun.

I’m not too sure about Jerry. I met him at a club interest meeting, and ever since he texts me randomly to get food. We go out to eat, and then we both go back to our respective dorm halls. It’s nice to have another person to go out with at the very least.

To be honest, I’ve found that since I’ve come to college I’ve become really close with an online friend of mine. We’ve been friends for almost a year now, but I was never that close to him. Sure, I thought he was funny, and really good at video games, but I honestly thought he didn’t notice me much. I’m not sure how much I’ve told all you guys, but I play a couple of online video games with a group of friends I met on a minecraft server. Originally I was friends with some toxic people, once they screwed me over, I became really good friends with the staff of the server. The admin is a pretty cool dude, and we talk sometimes, but mostly I was really good friends with some mods. What happened was I became good friends with one mod, and he introduced me to his friends. To be honest the original mod I was friends with is a bit annoying sometimes. He’s a great guy, and we were super close for a time, but now I suddenly became really close to one of the people he introduced me to. I’ll call this person Danny. Danny is the funny guy I thought paid no attention to me. Lately we talk a lot, and it’s really nice. I know I’ll probably never meet him in real life, but he’s a great friend to have. He’s helped me not lose my mind a few times since I’ve come to college even though he doesn’t know that. I don’t know. We talk basically every day. It’s been a pretty important friendship to me because he was friends with me before I went to college, and he’s still my friend now that I’m in college. Because I had divorced parents there weren’t a lot of constant people in my life. My dad would date new women, and just as I became friends with their kids, he’d end the relationship. Every other weekend I was shuffled off to my dad’s house, and I couldn’t really rely on him. I went to so many different dance schools, theater companies, sports teams, and such as a kid that I never had permanent friends. I just lost almost all my high school friends but the fact that he’s still around, it’s so nice. Unfortunately it could also screw me over because he’s an online friend with no attachment to me, so he could just disappear some day. That probably would hurt like a lot. Nevertheless, for now we can be weird and say stupid things and just play video games. It’s nice, and it makes me happy.

Alrighty, this is making me sad at this point so here’s some good news. The meeting I met Jerry at was for Musical Theater Club. You had to try out for that club, and after trying out, I made it in! I’m so excited for the first official meeting. Every semester they put on a show comprised of different musical numbers from various musicals. I can’t wait to be invested in a musical community again. I think it will be healthy for me, and I’ll make new friends.

This was a huge post haha. I’m done for now, I really do need to get on top of writing a new poem though. I haven’t written anything new in the longest time. Until next time

-AcuteAnimosity