Shoot.

The semester is almost over. I don't know how I feel about that. I guess I should be excited, but I'm not. I'm scared. I don't know where the time went. I didn't even realize it passed.

The Dream

In my dreams I walked the beach
and on the beach you waited in the sand
and without a word you took my hand
We talked without a word
and not a single thing was heard
except you and I we understood
how much silence could say
and when we parted ways
I cried all the way home
I turned on the radio and got lost in the sound
and sang at the top of my lungs
When I thought no one was around
And when I'm alone I count the cracks in the wall
and sometimes wonder if you think about me at all
I sit and stare at my own shadow
and I wonder where my life has gone.

What Am I Waiting For?

Maybe I was dropped on my head as a child a few times too many. Maybe I'm just naturally born stupid. Whatever the case, I know I should be smarter than this. When I was growing up, I was always told that a man who hits a woman, regardless of whether she started it or not, is not a man. I told myself I was never, ever going to be in a relationship like that, that the second he lays hands on my I'm gone. Where did that girl go, anyway? I could really use her right now. I guess everything changes when there's a baby involved. It should be giving me more incentive to leave, but where would I go? Back to my mom, who will just try to control me? To Texas, where I have no other family? His family will turn against me when I go, without a doubt. They will try to take my baby. I never imagined my life would turn out this way. I guess that's the thing about life, though. It's unpredictable. You can't ever expect it to go the way you planned, because, like a baseball game, it can throw a curve-ball any second and you can strike out. I guess, in a lot of ways, life is like a baseball game. I wish I had played the sport when I was younger. I could really use some tips right now.

I'd Rather Hurt Than Feel Nothing at All

Every once in a while I'll think about it. I know I forbade myself from focusing on something so destructive, but it's taken over my mind. It's like an infection with no antibiotic, a tumor unaffected by radiation and chemo, traveling throughout my body, infecting my blood. This thing that I want to call hate, but maybe it's pain, is incapacitating. It's controlling me, turning me into someone who doubts everything. Why is everyone staring at me? They're not. I just think they are. Oh, this person is being nice to me, but clearly isn't thinking nice things about me. What's wrong with me? Am I defective? Am I incapable of being desirable? Is there something in my face that begs to be lied to, to be hurt, to be cheated out of happiness? Is there something he found inside of my heart that I so willingly relinquished not once, not twice, but all three times he left, that told him it was okay to share his love with another woman? 2 1/2 years ago and I am just now finding out, but I think I knew all along. Everything I was going through for him was a waste of time. My mother is right about him, but what can I do about it now? We have a child together, and the years of hurt and anguish he has inflicted upon me will never fade, no matter how right he thinks things are. I will always have this hatred for him, coupled with an impossible, desperate, starving love for him that will also never fade. I'm imprisoned by my own heart. My own heart has betrayed me.

words

I get so pissed off sometimes. I live in a home full of hypocritical nonsense and whenever I try to speak up about it I'M the one that gets a harsh slap on the wrist. For example, I decided to start washing dishes this morning, since that jerkoff that I live with (Mark's stepfather) has chosen to let them pile up, and then he came into the room and said that he'd do it. Okay, that's cool. I went back to bed. Mark and I go out with Aivril and it's a fun day. We come home, and there are even more dishes piled up on the counter. I know that the one thing Mark's mother  cannot stand is having to wash dishes when she gets home from a twelve hour shift. And I know that jerkoff will not wash them as he said he would. I know that it will be me, and maybe Mark, who will get reprimanded. What irks me the most is every time I try to speak up about this sort of activity, Debi (Mark's mother) shuts it down with "I just want everyone to get along". Okay, great. I get that. But how can that happen when the "master of the house" refuses to do anything and then the two irresponsible kids get blamed for it? I hate it here. I feel like I'm drowning. Every day, time and time again, this asshole makes me feel inferior and unimportant. I've started cutting again. I hate who I am becoming. I want to be a good mother for my daughter, but with every little mistake I make as a result of being a human being, jerkoff is there to magnify it and make me feel like an abusive, unattentive parent. Who does he think he is? It's not like he treats his own daughter with the utmost love and care. He treats her like absolute crap when he thinks no one else is looking. But no one believes me. It's like my voice box has been torn out of my throat. The steam coming out of the shower can be heard better than I can be. Fuck.

Traffic

Let me tell you a story. This is a story about a girl who is tired of being called an attention-seeking whine-bag whenever she opens up about her feelings. This is the story about a girl who has had a rough deal that she did not choose, and who will forever be judged on something that should not define her. This girl was abused from day one, and now that she is almost nineteen years old, she is wondering whether she was even wanted to begin with. She is standing at the crossroads of life, trapped at an intersection filled with yellow lights. There are no arrows suggesting which way to go, only a sign that says "Danger:Proceed with Caution". There is no traffic cop to guide her. She is alone. Her passenger has since abandoned her, just as everyone else has. The one person who stays by her side is the one person she won't stop being mean to. The life she has lived thus far has turned her into an unpredictable woman with outrageous emotions hanging by a nerve ending. she is bitter, resentful, and dwells on the past far more than is healthy. Maybe that's her problem. Maybe if she let the trailer off her car, that weight that is holding her down, she'll be able to cross the intersection with the right turn. Her only problem is this: where's the latch?