Half Dead
The Mute Girl Sings In The Choir
God, I could kiss your holy feet! You came through for the beaten old girl, Violet! I love you!
I love you, I love you, I love you!
...Shit, I spoke too soon.
God isn't real after all.
The stupid boy is there... But, so is Raven. Raven and her little clique. Why are they there? Why are they smiling at that stupid boy?
God, Violet, don't even bother. Who cares? As long as he's away from you, the better. Park your ass on the bench and read your book.
I listen to myself. I should. I should listen to myself more so than I do other people.
I sat down, quietly, hearing the girlish giggles from Raven and her posse. What was so funny? Why are they getting a kick out of that stupid boy?
Ugh, stop, Violet. Stop it right now, read your book.
I fix my bag onto my lap and zip it open quietly. I don't want any attention. I don't want their eyes or their mouths being all about me today. I heard enough in choir.
Yes, isn't that funny? The mute girl takes choir. Why? Because I can.
Why else? It bothers Raven to no end.
"Mr. Bradley, does The Mute have to be in front? Hide her in the back. She doesn't even mouth the words!"
Raven was angry when I first joined choir after I came back to school, following my suicide failure. It was such a shock that I chose choir, it was an inside joke to me, so many told me to change my mind. But, I went to school everyday and though I "couldn't" participate, I actually showed up.
I do my work. I do what they tell me. I do it because what would I do if I didn't?
I grabbed the Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I've read this book a few times and still, I don't ever remember what it's about. I was happily reminding myself of the gibberish on the page when I heard a collective girlish announcements of; "Bye Frankie."
Stupid boy responds; "Bye ladies."
I hope and pray that he won't see me. But, fuck; his foot steps on the grass shoot my spirits down.
"Okay, is it my impeccable good looks is what got you speechless?" Stupid Boy says.
No, ugly.
"But, you don't look at me. You ignore me. Why? You're gorgeous."
Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone!!
"You don't have to act stuck up with me... I get it, you're hot and you have guys hanging off you all the time, it looks like."
Don't sit next to me. You smell, stupid boy. You smell like cigarettes and peppermint. Like my grandpa before he died. Go away, I hate you.
"The Bell Jar, eh? I haven't read it, what's it about?"
Shut up, I don't know.
"You know Sylvia Plath killed herself? Stuck her head in an oven, how sick! I wonder, did she burn herself?"
How is suffering and wanting to die, sick, stupid boy? Is suicide sick or the fact that she stuck her head in an oven sick? Either way, you annoy me and I don't want an answer.
"Is it good?"
No.
"Do you like Stephen King? Have you seen Pet Cemetery? Shawshank Redemption?"
Yes, yes, yes, stupid boy. Go away.
"I liked Pet Cemetery, but not the sequel... With that kid from Terminator..."
Edward Furlong, jerk off.
"Anyway, have you seen them?"
Yes, I already answered you! I won't grace you with a head nod either.
"You must like poems."
No.
"You read Sylvia Plath. Do you read haikus?"
I got one for you, stupid boy:
Leave me alone
Leave me alone
Jump off a bridge
How's that for a haiku?
"So, enough about you," Why are you stretching your arm this way? "Let's talk about me."
Yes, how about you fuck off?
"I'm Frankie, I'm an incredible guitar player, I'm a junior in high school, and I love pizza."
Go away, I don't care.
"I think violets are hot."
Sicko. Go away.
...Thank god, he stopped talking.
"Let me see this."
Spoke too soon and now he has my book, plucked it right from my hands. Keep it. I don't want your sick, sad, pathetic germs, Stupid Boy.
Oh, thank God, mother is here.
I storm away, letting that stupid boy keep my book. He calls after me, but I make it to the car and he isn't chasing me.
"How was school?"
Drive, mother. Drive.
Thank God.
"Your dad is going on a business trip this weekend, so it's just gonna be us girls."
Yippee. I can still hang out in my door-less bedroom.
"We could go shopping... Your clothes look a little big on you."
What do you expect? You don't just drop 50 pounds and expect you'll still fit into your fat girl clothes.
"We could buy shoes, some movies, CDs. Whatever you want, Violet."
I don't want anything.
"Tomorrow, we'll be picking you up early to see Dr. Wilbur at noon. Will you talk?"
No.
"Violet? Honey?"
No, can't you read my angsty way of not speaking? Can't you feel the anger and resentment radiating off my body? I won't speak for anyone.
"I miss your voice, Violet. I care about you."
I don't care. If you really cared, you would've let me die. You wouldn't have called the ambulance.
You saw me suffering. You saw me want to die. You heard me beg you to let me stay home.
"Buck up, Violet. It's just school. Sticks and stones!"
No. No, I will not speak. Tough.
Buck up, mom. Buck up and get used to the silence.
"She's so weird. She pisses me off. How dare she join choir?"
Raven hates me and talks about me loudly in choir. Since I am 5', I'm in front of her; she is 5'4; the class is lined up by height. She's angry and hates me because I don't have to try in this class.
"She's still fat."
Yes, but you can't hurt me anymore.
Well, not verbally.
I tune her out while everyone sings. I don't even hum. That's how much I care. That's how much I don't give a damn that I am in choir. I even stick my hands in my sweater pockets.
Fuck you Raven
Fuck you Choir
Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you!
How's that for a haiku?
But my longing hate doesn't last long. Thank you, fortunate timing! My parents are here to take me away... Where they think I'm going to speak.
No such luck.
Dr. Wilbur became my psychiatrist after I had slit my wrist, back in 8th grade. I used to see him just once a week, after my failure to kill myself, I started to see him three times a week. After drinking that cleaning solution cocktail, I refused to see him three times and only see him once.
I hate seeing him. He tries too hard for something that isn't going to happen. I feel so bad for him. Y'know, getting his hopes up for a poor girl without a future. The only future I have is to spend the rest of eternity in an urn or grave somewhere.
I love you, I love you, I love you!
...Shit, I spoke too soon.
God isn't real after all.
The stupid boy is there... But, so is Raven. Raven and her little clique. Why are they there? Why are they smiling at that stupid boy?
God, Violet, don't even bother. Who cares? As long as he's away from you, the better. Park your ass on the bench and read your book.
I listen to myself. I should. I should listen to myself more so than I do other people.
I sat down, quietly, hearing the girlish giggles from Raven and her posse. What was so funny? Why are they getting a kick out of that stupid boy?
Ugh, stop, Violet. Stop it right now, read your book.
I fix my bag onto my lap and zip it open quietly. I don't want any attention. I don't want their eyes or their mouths being all about me today. I heard enough in choir.
Yes, isn't that funny? The mute girl takes choir. Why? Because I can.
Why else? It bothers Raven to no end.
"Mr. Bradley, does The Mute have to be in front? Hide her in the back. She doesn't even mouth the words!"
Raven was angry when I first joined choir after I came back to school, following my suicide failure. It was such a shock that I chose choir, it was an inside joke to me, so many told me to change my mind. But, I went to school everyday and though I "couldn't" participate, I actually showed up.
I do my work. I do what they tell me. I do it because what would I do if I didn't?
I grabbed the Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I've read this book a few times and still, I don't ever remember what it's about. I was happily reminding myself of the gibberish on the page when I heard a collective girlish announcements of; "Bye Frankie."
Stupid boy responds; "Bye ladies."
I hope and pray that he won't see me. But, fuck; his foot steps on the grass shoot my spirits down.
"Okay, is it my impeccable good looks is what got you speechless?" Stupid Boy says.
No, ugly.
"But, you don't look at me. You ignore me. Why? You're gorgeous."
Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone!!
"You don't have to act stuck up with me... I get it, you're hot and you have guys hanging off you all the time, it looks like."
Don't sit next to me. You smell, stupid boy. You smell like cigarettes and peppermint. Like my grandpa before he died. Go away, I hate you.
"The Bell Jar, eh? I haven't read it, what's it about?"
Shut up, I don't know.
"You know Sylvia Plath killed herself? Stuck her head in an oven, how sick! I wonder, did she burn herself?"
How is suffering and wanting to die, sick, stupid boy? Is suicide sick or the fact that she stuck her head in an oven sick? Either way, you annoy me and I don't want an answer.
"Is it good?"
No.
"Do you like Stephen King? Have you seen Pet Cemetery? Shawshank Redemption?"
Yes, yes, yes, stupid boy. Go away.
"I liked Pet Cemetery, but not the sequel... With that kid from Terminator..."
Edward Furlong, jerk off.
"Anyway, have you seen them?"
Yes, I already answered you! I won't grace you with a head nod either.
"You must like poems."
No.
"You read Sylvia Plath. Do you read haikus?"
I got one for you, stupid boy:
Leave me alone
Leave me alone
Jump off a bridge
How's that for a haiku?
"So, enough about you," Why are you stretching your arm this way? "Let's talk about me."
Yes, how about you fuck off?
"I'm Frankie, I'm an incredible guitar player, I'm a junior in high school, and I love pizza."
Go away, I don't care.
"I think violets are hot."
Sicko. Go away.
...Thank god, he stopped talking.
"Let me see this."
Spoke too soon and now he has my book, plucked it right from my hands. Keep it. I don't want your sick, sad, pathetic germs, Stupid Boy.
Oh, thank God, mother is here.
I storm away, letting that stupid boy keep my book. He calls after me, but I make it to the car and he isn't chasing me.
"How was school?"
Drive, mother. Drive.
Thank God.
"Your dad is going on a business trip this weekend, so it's just gonna be us girls."
Yippee. I can still hang out in my door-less bedroom.
"We could go shopping... Your clothes look a little big on you."
What do you expect? You don't just drop 50 pounds and expect you'll still fit into your fat girl clothes.
"We could buy shoes, some movies, CDs. Whatever you want, Violet."
I don't want anything.
"Tomorrow, we'll be picking you up early to see Dr. Wilbur at noon. Will you talk?"
No.
"Violet? Honey?"
No, can't you read my angsty way of not speaking? Can't you feel the anger and resentment radiating off my body? I won't speak for anyone.
"I miss your voice, Violet. I care about you."
I don't care. If you really cared, you would've let me die. You wouldn't have called the ambulance.
You saw me suffering. You saw me want to die. You heard me beg you to let me stay home.
"Buck up, Violet. It's just school. Sticks and stones!"
No. No, I will not speak. Tough.
Buck up, mom. Buck up and get used to the silence.
•••
"She's so weird. She pisses me off. How dare she join choir?"
Raven hates me and talks about me loudly in choir. Since I am 5', I'm in front of her; she is 5'4; the class is lined up by height. She's angry and hates me because I don't have to try in this class.
"She's still fat."
Yes, but you can't hurt me anymore.
Well, not verbally.
I tune her out while everyone sings. I don't even hum. That's how much I care. That's how much I don't give a damn that I am in choir. I even stick my hands in my sweater pockets.
Fuck you Raven
Fuck you Choir
Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you!
How's that for a haiku?
But my longing hate doesn't last long. Thank you, fortunate timing! My parents are here to take me away... Where they think I'm going to speak.
No such luck.
Dr. Wilbur became my psychiatrist after I had slit my wrist, back in 8th grade. I used to see him just once a week, after my failure to kill myself, I started to see him three times a week. After drinking that cleaning solution cocktail, I refused to see him three times and only see him once.
I hate seeing him. He tries too hard for something that isn't going to happen. I feel so bad for him. Y'know, getting his hopes up for a poor girl without a future. The only future I have is to spend the rest of eternity in an urn or grave somewhere.