this is not living.
She’s not sure what town she’s in anymore. She doesn’t know anything anymore. In a car with two people she barely knows, with the sun shining straight in her eyes. They sit in the front seat: a symbol of seniority, but glance back at her every now and then. They sing a Miley Cyrus song that plays on the radio. She picks at the already chipping nail polish on her thumb. Part of her wants to go home, part of her wants to stay in the car. An SUV driven by a seventeen year old who doesn’t really know what she’s doing causes a lot of bumping, swaying, and sharp turns. She dances to the music in the back seat, trying to fit in. If the car bounces her sideways, she sways to the music, if they go over a speed bump to fast, she nods her head to the beat. She takes her cues from the car. She’s nauseous, and can tell there’s still alcohol in her system. She told the girl in the passenger seat that she wanted to get drunk, that she wanted to lose control. But there were too many people and not enough booze. Just enough to burn her throat and make her dizzy. She was the only sober one there, if she was any kind of sober at all. That’s all a matter of interpretation, if you think about it.
Back at home, she is alone. She showers with the stereo blasting, and sings quietly along to a Metro Station song, her voice hidden safely in the volume. Herbal Essences washes the stench of cigarettes out of her hair and replaces it with the fusion of acai berries and satin. She wasn’t a smoker, and was proud that while she gave up her vow to never drink, she hadn’t tried a cigarette. She was still too scared of those. She regretted not being drunker; she regretted not losing complete control and blacking out to hook up with a stranger. With a cringe she reminds herself that she’s still a good girl on the inside. But she’s made an awful lot of changes to her image, at least in her own mind.
Steam clouds her mouth, and he clouds her mind. He’s made a permanent home in her brain and she hates it. He digs in and does everything she hates. He doesn’t believe in her, he tells he when he thinks she’s wrong, he shows off his god complex, he doesn’t listen, he treats her like a child, he makes her think too much, like now. She knows she’s wrong, and she knows she’s overanalyzing everything, but she can’t exactly stop. He thinks she can. He’d be so much easier to deal with if she didn’t like him so much. If she didn’t like him, she could want what he wanted. Which she still isn’t fully clear on. They’ve both got deadly personality flaws that alone can be survived, but together will kill them. She wishes she could be shallow, and be with a guy without getting attached. But she got attached to him before she was even with him, so what could be done? She tried to run, but he wouldn’t let her. She wouldn’t let herself. She ran, and he followed, and she never needed much convincing for anything. She’s a hopeless romantic, and did things for him she’d never ever do, because she wanted him so badly. Just another thing to blow up in her face.
She’s a stupid girl, who is stuck in the past, stuck in her problems. But for a girl like that, she certainly disregards mistakes in favor of doing them again, and she is certainly making no attempt to fix herself. You can’t fix what’s not broken, and almost no one would ever tell her she’s broken. But two people know that she is. Him and her. Him and her together remind her of wedding cake toppers. Same height, he likes to wear black, she likes to wear white. Completely expressionless when put on the spot to be watched and gawked at, but who knows what they do when they’re back in the box. They are married after all. But she never liked the idea of married life.
for the kids i got drunk with, once and only once.
and for the biggest egomaniac i know.
Back at home, she is alone. She showers with the stereo blasting, and sings quietly along to a Metro Station song, her voice hidden safely in the volume. Herbal Essences washes the stench of cigarettes out of her hair and replaces it with the fusion of acai berries and satin. She wasn’t a smoker, and was proud that while she gave up her vow to never drink, she hadn’t tried a cigarette. She was still too scared of those. She regretted not being drunker; she regretted not losing complete control and blacking out to hook up with a stranger. With a cringe she reminds herself that she’s still a good girl on the inside. But she’s made an awful lot of changes to her image, at least in her own mind.
Steam clouds her mouth, and he clouds her mind. He’s made a permanent home in her brain and she hates it. He digs in and does everything she hates. He doesn’t believe in her, he tells he when he thinks she’s wrong, he shows off his god complex, he doesn’t listen, he treats her like a child, he makes her think too much, like now. She knows she’s wrong, and she knows she’s overanalyzing everything, but she can’t exactly stop. He thinks she can. He’d be so much easier to deal with if she didn’t like him so much. If she didn’t like him, she could want what he wanted. Which she still isn’t fully clear on. They’ve both got deadly personality flaws that alone can be survived, but together will kill them. She wishes she could be shallow, and be with a guy without getting attached. But she got attached to him before she was even with him, so what could be done? She tried to run, but he wouldn’t let her. She wouldn’t let herself. She ran, and he followed, and she never needed much convincing for anything. She’s a hopeless romantic, and did things for him she’d never ever do, because she wanted him so badly. Just another thing to blow up in her face.
She’s a stupid girl, who is stuck in the past, stuck in her problems. But for a girl like that, she certainly disregards mistakes in favor of doing them again, and she is certainly making no attempt to fix herself. You can’t fix what’s not broken, and almost no one would ever tell her she’s broken. But two people know that she is. Him and her. Him and her together remind her of wedding cake toppers. Same height, he likes to wear black, she likes to wear white. Completely expressionless when put on the spot to be watched and gawked at, but who knows what they do when they’re back in the box. They are married after all. But she never liked the idea of married life.
for the kids i got drunk with, once and only once.
and for the biggest egomaniac i know.