Status: Believe me, my tiny little group of readers, I'm not giving this one up. Updates are going to start surfacing on a regular basis, just lemme get college application stuff out the way first. Kinda important. ::tehe:
The Technicolor Daydreamer; Folie A Deux.
Deux.
Thud. Thunk. Thud. Thunk.
I don't know why people underestimate kids so easily; they're not nearly as stupid as they seem sometimes.
For instance, my little ten-year-old self is in the hallway right now.
Halogen-white lights. Navy blue, peach, and cream-colored tile, and a tacky doctor-y wallpaper.
Thud. Thunk. Thud. Thunk.
Fluorescent Orange, Blue, Green swirls. A sphere.
Do they really think they're out of earshot?
"Well, there's a small chance of complications..."
How foolish. I can hear every word.
"Amia, could you step outside and play with your rubber ball for a second, please?"
Stupid doctor.
Because of her, i'm out here playing deaf for a few minutes...pacing.
Thud. Thunk. Thud. Thunk.
I figured there's a chance I might die, but...meh.
I'm no stranger to death.
I attended my first funeral before I turned four. Great-Grandma Edna.
At this point, I'd also lost my paternal grandmother to cancer at seven.
Ah, cancer.
The very thing trying to be prevented.
"There could be some excessive bleeding..and we plan on putting in some gauze packing to prevent that."
Thud-Bounce-Thud-Bounce.
Oh dear. Bleeding to death? Not nearly as quick as an accidental slice to the brain...
"The risk of infection is also very low. And as for the nasal cavity--"
"Will it affect the way her nose is shaped?"
"Um...there might be a slight indentation on the bridges, ma'am. Hardly noticeable."
Ah. If not my life, then my looks. Well, not looks per se...I don't think I had or have any to begin with.
Thunk-Thud-Thud-Thunk.
"Amia? Amia, you can come back in now..."
"Yes, come on..."
Obediently and silently, I grabbed my swirly bouncy ball off the bacteria-ridden floor and waltzed back into the room, feigning cluelessness.
Neatly seated myself on the doctor's seat between my mother and father.
Cold, leathery, sickly green.
"I'd heard nothing," would be my casual response later, back at home.
"I want to do it," would be my mistaken reply minutes after that.
Fast forward, months and years at a time.
Finally, January 15th's hit. Oh, joy.
No liquids less than 5 hours in advance.
Take the exit off 635.
What grade are you in? "Fifth..."
Funny how that works.
Long wait, pep talk, long wait, counselor.
"They're going to put the IV in your hand while you're asleep."
"I...I won't feel it?"
"No. Any other questions?"
Nice lady. Hot pinkish-red lipstick. Curly red hair.
Longer wait, nurse.
Uncomfortable gown change, horrible-tasting "silly juice".
A gurney rolling, and a missing chunk of memory afterwards.
So many bright lights, plently of time.
"Hi, baby! How're you feeling?"
Four moms, side by side, merge into a single image.
Squint, rub, squint, smile.
"How do you feel?"
"Loopy."
Garbled talk, graham crackers, icky apple juice.
McDonalds contraband, snuck in by a brave-faced dad.
Giant nose-bandage, vomit.
Pudding, broth, Kool-Aid, Jell-o.
Fast forward again.
$20,000, plenty of parental arguments, and a regrown parasitic growth later...
6th, 7th, 8th grade.
Can't breathe.
Ice blue eyes, big ears, old friend. (Kindergarten onward.)
Painful realization, accompanied by "maternal help". Not from my mother.
Or..."maternal hints", I should say.
Accusing, wary looks. Worried looks. "My son likes a black girl?"
Unspoken, but read easily.
Don't worry ma'am, i'm over your son. Stop giving me the stink-eye. (Thoughts equally unspoken, of course.)
6, 7, 8th grade.
Bullies. In droves. Painful transition.
"You floodin'!" "You stupid!" "You ugly!"
Yes, yes.
What doesn't kill me makes mesuicidal stronger.
For the time being, anyway.
Cupid's rusty arrows strike again in two years. 8th. Aiming and hitting precisely where they're intended.
"You told him I like him?!"
Drama. Drama, drama, drama.
Freshman year: a blur. New, unfamiliar, uncomfortable territory.
The following summer: A nightmare.
Dwindling air.
Fights, grades, tears, and a Youtube video.
I become Chemically Romanced. For the better.
Voices:
"Jump. End it. End it."
"Get off that ledge. Things aren't that bad. You have a purpose, you just haven't found it yet."
"Cut. Cut. Draw blood."
"Nothing, and I mean nothing, is worth killing yourself over!"
A meaningful quote. Faint applause and voices fade.
Tears and prayers for a best friend.
One that won't leave me for a barely-legal boyfriend.
Prayers answered, with a resounding bang,
I found a friend equally crazy as me. Or close to it. A year younger.
A person to walk over coals with, hand in hand.
"Emo!" "They're both crazy." "Are you two lesbians?"
In response to the last: no. Both straight, both girls, both friends.
The word develops a shiny new luster.
I found a friend.
Sophomore year ends. Summertime follows.
My own little espionage: fight the anons from Marble Arch and beyond. From Yankee territory comes a Brit-lover. The lone-star state.
Summer passes without much trouble.
Annual depression fails to rear its ugly little head completely.
My non-existant social life blooms nicely.
Twilights, New Moons, Eclipses, and now:
Junior year dawns.
Slowly suffocating.
Bellaneeds wants an Edward. No sparkles required.
I don't know why people underestimate kids so easily; they're not nearly as stupid as they seem sometimes.
For instance, my little ten-year-old self is in the hallway right now.
Halogen-white lights. Navy blue, peach, and cream-colored tile, and a tacky doctor-y wallpaper.
Thud. Thunk. Thud. Thunk.
Fluorescent Orange, Blue, Green swirls. A sphere.
Do they really think they're out of earshot?
"Well, there's a small chance of complications..."
How foolish. I can hear every word.
"Amia, could you step outside and play with your rubber ball for a second, please?"
Stupid doctor.
Because of her, i'm out here playing deaf for a few minutes...pacing.
Thud. Thunk. Thud. Thunk.
I figured there's a chance I might die, but...meh.
I'm no stranger to death.
I attended my first funeral before I turned four. Great-Grandma Edna.
At this point, I'd also lost my paternal grandmother to cancer at seven.
Ah, cancer.
The very thing trying to be prevented.
"There could be some excessive bleeding..and we plan on putting in some gauze packing to prevent that."
Thud-Bounce-Thud-Bounce.
Oh dear. Bleeding to death? Not nearly as quick as an accidental slice to the brain...
"The risk of infection is also very low. And as for the nasal cavity--"
"Will it affect the way her nose is shaped?"
"Um...there might be a slight indentation on the bridges, ma'am. Hardly noticeable."
Ah. If not my life, then my looks. Well, not looks per se...I don't think I had or have any to begin with.
Thunk-Thud-Thud-Thunk.
"Amia? Amia, you can come back in now..."
"Yes, come on..."
Obediently and silently, I grabbed my swirly bouncy ball off the bacteria-ridden floor and waltzed back into the room, feigning cluelessness.
Neatly seated myself on the doctor's seat between my mother and father.
Cold, leathery, sickly green.
"I'd heard nothing," would be my casual response later, back at home.
"I want to do it," would be my mistaken reply minutes after that.
Fast forward, months and years at a time.
Finally, January 15th's hit. Oh, joy.
No liquids less than 5 hours in advance.
Take the exit off 635.
What grade are you in? "Fifth..."
Funny how that works.
Long wait, pep talk, long wait, counselor.
"They're going to put the IV in your hand while you're asleep."
"I...I won't feel it?"
"No. Any other questions?"
Nice lady. Hot pinkish-red lipstick. Curly red hair.
Longer wait, nurse.
Uncomfortable gown change, horrible-tasting "silly juice".
A gurney rolling, and a missing chunk of memory afterwards.
So many bright lights, plently of time.
"Hi, baby! How're you feeling?"
Four moms, side by side, merge into a single image.
Squint, rub, squint, smile.
"How do you feel?"
"Loopy."
Garbled talk, graham crackers, icky apple juice.
McDonalds contraband, snuck in by a brave-faced dad.
Giant nose-bandage, vomit.
Pudding, broth, Kool-Aid, Jell-o.
Fast forward again.
$20,000, plenty of parental arguments, and a regrown parasitic growth later...
6th, 7th, 8th grade.
Can't breathe.
Ice blue eyes, big ears, old friend. (Kindergarten onward.)
Painful realization, accompanied by "maternal help". Not from my mother.
Or..."maternal hints", I should say.
Accusing, wary looks. Worried looks. "My son likes a black girl?"
Unspoken, but read easily.
Don't worry ma'am, i'm over your son. Stop giving me the stink-eye. (Thoughts equally unspoken, of course.)
6, 7, 8th grade.
Bullies. In droves. Painful transition.
"You floodin'!" "You stupid!" "You ugly!"
Yes, yes.
What doesn't kill me makes mesuicidal stronger.
For the time being, anyway.
Cupid's rusty arrows strike again in two years. 8th. Aiming and hitting precisely where they're intended.
"You told him I like him?!"
Drama. Drama, drama, drama.
Freshman year: a blur. New, unfamiliar, uncomfortable territory.
The following summer: A nightmare.
Dwindling air.
Fights, grades, tears, and a Youtube video.
I become Chemically Romanced. For the better.
Voices:
"Jump. End it. End it."
"Get off that ledge. Things aren't that bad. You have a purpose, you just haven't found it yet."
"Cut. Cut. Draw blood."
"Nothing, and I mean nothing, is worth killing yourself over!"
A meaningful quote. Faint applause and voices fade.
Tears and prayers for a best friend.
One that won't leave me for a barely-legal boyfriend.
Prayers answered, with a resounding bang,
I found a friend equally crazy as me. Or close to it. A year younger.
A person to walk over coals with, hand in hand.
"Emo!" "They're both crazy." "Are you two lesbians?"
In response to the last: no. Both straight, both girls, both friends.
The word develops a shiny new luster.
I found a friend.
Sophomore year ends. Summertime follows.
My own little espionage: fight the anons from Marble Arch and beyond. From Yankee territory comes a Brit-lover. The lone-star state.
Summer passes without much trouble.
Annual depression fails to rear its ugly little head completely.
My non-existant social life blooms nicely.
Twilights, New Moons, Eclipses, and now:
Junior year dawns.
Slowly suffocating.
Bellaneeds wants an Edward. No sparkles required.
♠ ♠ ♠
Lengthy, I know.It's the autobiography part of the story.
I hope it made sense...
Did anyone like it?
<3