Beautiful/Terrible
Free
I went into my room to do “homework”. I really just wrote poetry and fucked around until I was too bored to function.
It was kind of spectacular how your life to everyone else was so different from what you actually go through. To my sister I was doing my homework, in actuality I was sitting here doing nothing now. To my parents I am a depressed teen that hates everything about the world, in actuality I see so much beauty in everything it hurts to think about it. To my teachers I was a girl who needed a 504 because I was too lazy to do homework, in actuality some days I just couldn’t do homework because it felt like I was mentally paralyzed and if I tried it felt like I was dying. I thought about death a lot.
I thought about death a lot.
I thought about death a lot.
I picked up my homework and started doing it. It felt like dying. I stopped.
It was one of those moments when your head feels like its exploding and the world is imploding, kissing each other in colossal matrimony. I thought of Allen as I thought this. Allen.
My beautiful boyfriend. And as I thought about him I felt a darkness that was love. People always say that sharing is caring, but how can sharing be caring if caring is loving, because love is a selfish thing. It fills you with this wicked want and nervous need, and you would do anything to have that person. It’s not for them, it’s for you. It’s for you because when you love someone you know that without them you will perish in royalty and ruin.
Allen.
I texted him: “Field?”
He responded moments later: “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a few”.
He didn’t lie. A few minutes later he honked in front of my house and I quickly called out a goodbye to Ronnie before running down the stairs to see the only person that I wanted to see at that moment in time. Moment in time.
Time was suspended as we lay flat on our backs, watching as the clouds rolled past. The bleacher felt cold and painful underneath me, separated between bone and flesh and thin layer of fabric my lungs breathed in a swelling breath and I could feel my lungs merge with that metal and I became beautiful and terrible. It felt like life and I looked like death. And I looked at Allen to see that he felt the same. I could tell that he did.
“Do you ever feel like the universe is too big for you to comprehend, and if you even try you’ll just die of shock because you might learn things you don’t want to learn and maybe our fragile hearts are too fragile for the world we live in?”
I looked at Allen, contemplating his question briefly before responding, “All the time.”
“Good.”
Silence fell. My eyelids fell. Closed eyes are eyes that are looking into yourself. Closed eyes are eyes in the beholder. Closed. Eyes.
With my closed eyes and open mouth I felt the air consume me and I loved it. I felt cold and alive and wilting and perfect and terrible and that was what love feels like, and that was why I was here with Allen. Because love is beautiful and terrible which was fitting because so were we.
I ran my fingertips along the grooves of the metal and I smiled. It reminded me of the edges of a razor, perfectly even: evenly spaced, evenly sized, evenly sharp.
“Allen?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” I told him. This was not the first time. When you love someone you should tell them. How else will they know? How else will you fall asleep at night?
“I know. I love you, too. And I will love you even when we inevitably die and are filled with heartbreak. I will console you in heaven and maybe we will finally smile at our deaths and that will be all I could ever ask for.”
I smiled at him and he was the death of me.
We silently watched as the sun drowned and the moon came out. It was a spectacular palette of red and cold and then the calming blanket of night, and we watched it all happen. We watched it all.
We were chilled to the bone and suffocating in our own drunken state so we left and got high in his minivan. That was the end of it. Nothing left to say.
He drove me home and we made out in his driveway and I didn’t care that my parents could see us if they passed by the window because the only thoughts that were permitted to run free in my mind were of him. How he tasted. How his tongue felt against me. How there would be a scab on my lip tomorrow from where he bit me there. I love every second of it and loved him more when I saw him pull out of the driveway and wave me goodbye. It’s funny how the ghost of him was even more enchanting and mysterious then his weeping flesh that I once gripped so tightly.
I walked through the front door even though it was a Thursday. My parents were watching TV anyway so I could tell them that I got home like an hour ago.
I went into my room, plugged my headphones into my ears and went to sleep. I still felt the calming freedom of the field, carried home with me through streets of leaves and roads of conformed rubble.
The next morning I felt like I was not free. I felt the restrictions of family and normalcy barring me down and so I wept in bed. I wept in my room. I wept in my house. I wept in this sad, cruel world.
School was normal and so I wept more once it was over, and when I came home I wept again.
It was Friday.
The field would be filled with teenage girls acting like hookers and douchebags acting like… douchebags, so Allen and I couldn’t go there today. It was okay though because I was going to Courtney’s house for a sleepover with her and Lexi. They were picking me up in Courtney’s jeep at 6:30.
I waited in my room and listened to Where is my Mind by the Pixies while I scrolled through Tumblr. After gathering some inspiration I began to write more poetry:
I think of how this lunar light makes way across purple skies,
Much like the way the light of your eyes splashes against the strokes of violet beneath
Much like your laughter lies between crooked teeth
Much like your veins weep in rivulets so deep,
And dance in the shadow of the dogwood tree
After pondering some more I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket.
Courtney: “We’re here let’s go”
I responded: “Ok”
I grabbed my overnight bag that was sitting in the corner of my room and went downstairs. My mother and father were watching some trashy reality TV show that I didn’t care about. I kissed them both on the cheek, smudging some red lipstick on them in the process. I had gotten a little dressy because we were teenage girls- we loved it and so it became a tradition to dress up for the sleepovers.
“Be safe, okay?” my dad reminded me.
“Of course. We’re just staying at Courtney’s house.”
“I know, I know,” he said, defeated.
“Have fun, sweetie,” my mom said finally, and I turned on my heel.
I walked out of the house briskly, not wanting to keep them waiting. When I stepped outside it was freezing and I almost wished I had opted for something warmer than my crop top, stilettos, and high-waited jeans. Almost.
I got into the car and was immediately passed a joint by Lexi, who sat shotgun. The windows were cracked open so Courtney wouldn’t get high while driving. It was a short drive anyway.
I put my lips to the death stick and breathed in. I felt the smoke curl past my throat and into my lungs, filling me up with its toxic love. Perfection.
A few hits later we arrived in front of a grand stone house that stretched three stories high. Courtney’s house.
We stumbled inside the deserted house- Courtney’s parents were never home. They were some kind of lawyers or something, I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was they were always gone and always doing something important. Sometimes it caused some friction with her and James because he lived in a two bedroom house with six brothers and sisters. They were still great friends, though.
We went straight for their plush yet eerily clean living room and began to wreck it. We took the sofa cushions and laid them on the floor. We brought out the blankets and threw them on top. We took pillows from all over. It was a masterpiece.
We began talking for hours and hours and our words stretched into the night. We talked about Lexi’s relationship with Drew- they still weren’t together because even though they constantly fucked each other, Lexi still didn’t have any feelings for him- and Courtney’s latest fight with her parents- they had caught her smoking pot in her room.
And then the conversation shifted.
“So,” Courtney began, “How’s Allen?” she said, giving me a coy smile.
“Have you done it yet?” Lexi interrupted.
“No! Oh my god you guys,” I told them truthfully, “why do you always ask me this. I’m beginning to think you guys are some kind of creepy pervs.” I winked at them at the end of my sentence. This was how most of our conversations went- witty humor, sarcasm, and juicy stories or confessions. We were typical teenage girls when I was with them and all of my worries went away. They comforted me in a different way from Allen, though both were equally as important to my life at the moment.
It was freeing, having so many good friends who could support you and let you hang loose, and I was in love.
It was kind of spectacular how your life to everyone else was so different from what you actually go through. To my sister I was doing my homework, in actuality I was sitting here doing nothing now. To my parents I am a depressed teen that hates everything about the world, in actuality I see so much beauty in everything it hurts to think about it. To my teachers I was a girl who needed a 504 because I was too lazy to do homework, in actuality some days I just couldn’t do homework because it felt like I was mentally paralyzed and if I tried it felt like I was dying. I thought about death a lot.
I thought about death a lot.
I thought about death a lot.
I picked up my homework and started doing it. It felt like dying. I stopped.
It was one of those moments when your head feels like its exploding and the world is imploding, kissing each other in colossal matrimony. I thought of Allen as I thought this. Allen.
My beautiful boyfriend. And as I thought about him I felt a darkness that was love. People always say that sharing is caring, but how can sharing be caring if caring is loving, because love is a selfish thing. It fills you with this wicked want and nervous need, and you would do anything to have that person. It’s not for them, it’s for you. It’s for you because when you love someone you know that without them you will perish in royalty and ruin.
Allen.
I texted him: “Field?”
He responded moments later: “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a few”.
He didn’t lie. A few minutes later he honked in front of my house and I quickly called out a goodbye to Ronnie before running down the stairs to see the only person that I wanted to see at that moment in time. Moment in time.
Time was suspended as we lay flat on our backs, watching as the clouds rolled past. The bleacher felt cold and painful underneath me, separated between bone and flesh and thin layer of fabric my lungs breathed in a swelling breath and I could feel my lungs merge with that metal and I became beautiful and terrible. It felt like life and I looked like death. And I looked at Allen to see that he felt the same. I could tell that he did.
“Do you ever feel like the universe is too big for you to comprehend, and if you even try you’ll just die of shock because you might learn things you don’t want to learn and maybe our fragile hearts are too fragile for the world we live in?”
I looked at Allen, contemplating his question briefly before responding, “All the time.”
“Good.”
Silence fell. My eyelids fell. Closed eyes are eyes that are looking into yourself. Closed eyes are eyes in the beholder. Closed. Eyes.
With my closed eyes and open mouth I felt the air consume me and I loved it. I felt cold and alive and wilting and perfect and terrible and that was what love feels like, and that was why I was here with Allen. Because love is beautiful and terrible which was fitting because so were we.
I ran my fingertips along the grooves of the metal and I smiled. It reminded me of the edges of a razor, perfectly even: evenly spaced, evenly sized, evenly sharp.
“Allen?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” I told him. This was not the first time. When you love someone you should tell them. How else will they know? How else will you fall asleep at night?
“I know. I love you, too. And I will love you even when we inevitably die and are filled with heartbreak. I will console you in heaven and maybe we will finally smile at our deaths and that will be all I could ever ask for.”
I smiled at him and he was the death of me.
We silently watched as the sun drowned and the moon came out. It was a spectacular palette of red and cold and then the calming blanket of night, and we watched it all happen. We watched it all.
We were chilled to the bone and suffocating in our own drunken state so we left and got high in his minivan. That was the end of it. Nothing left to say.
He drove me home and we made out in his driveway and I didn’t care that my parents could see us if they passed by the window because the only thoughts that were permitted to run free in my mind were of him. How he tasted. How his tongue felt against me. How there would be a scab on my lip tomorrow from where he bit me there. I love every second of it and loved him more when I saw him pull out of the driveway and wave me goodbye. It’s funny how the ghost of him was even more enchanting and mysterious then his weeping flesh that I once gripped so tightly.
I walked through the front door even though it was a Thursday. My parents were watching TV anyway so I could tell them that I got home like an hour ago.
I went into my room, plugged my headphones into my ears and went to sleep. I still felt the calming freedom of the field, carried home with me through streets of leaves and roads of conformed rubble.
The next morning I felt like I was not free. I felt the restrictions of family and normalcy barring me down and so I wept in bed. I wept in my room. I wept in my house. I wept in this sad, cruel world.
School was normal and so I wept more once it was over, and when I came home I wept again.
It was Friday.
The field would be filled with teenage girls acting like hookers and douchebags acting like… douchebags, so Allen and I couldn’t go there today. It was okay though because I was going to Courtney’s house for a sleepover with her and Lexi. They were picking me up in Courtney’s jeep at 6:30.
I waited in my room and listened to Where is my Mind by the Pixies while I scrolled through Tumblr. After gathering some inspiration I began to write more poetry:
I think of how this lunar light makes way across purple skies,
Much like the way the light of your eyes splashes against the strokes of violet beneath
Much like your laughter lies between crooked teeth
Much like your veins weep in rivulets so deep,
And dance in the shadow of the dogwood tree
After pondering some more I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket.
Courtney: “We’re here let’s go”
I responded: “Ok”
I grabbed my overnight bag that was sitting in the corner of my room and went downstairs. My mother and father were watching some trashy reality TV show that I didn’t care about. I kissed them both on the cheek, smudging some red lipstick on them in the process. I had gotten a little dressy because we were teenage girls- we loved it and so it became a tradition to dress up for the sleepovers.
“Be safe, okay?” my dad reminded me.
“Of course. We’re just staying at Courtney’s house.”
“I know, I know,” he said, defeated.
“Have fun, sweetie,” my mom said finally, and I turned on my heel.
I walked out of the house briskly, not wanting to keep them waiting. When I stepped outside it was freezing and I almost wished I had opted for something warmer than my crop top, stilettos, and high-waited jeans. Almost.
I got into the car and was immediately passed a joint by Lexi, who sat shotgun. The windows were cracked open so Courtney wouldn’t get high while driving. It was a short drive anyway.
I put my lips to the death stick and breathed in. I felt the smoke curl past my throat and into my lungs, filling me up with its toxic love. Perfection.
A few hits later we arrived in front of a grand stone house that stretched three stories high. Courtney’s house.
We stumbled inside the deserted house- Courtney’s parents were never home. They were some kind of lawyers or something, I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was they were always gone and always doing something important. Sometimes it caused some friction with her and James because he lived in a two bedroom house with six brothers and sisters. They were still great friends, though.
We went straight for their plush yet eerily clean living room and began to wreck it. We took the sofa cushions and laid them on the floor. We brought out the blankets and threw them on top. We took pillows from all over. It was a masterpiece.
We began talking for hours and hours and our words stretched into the night. We talked about Lexi’s relationship with Drew- they still weren’t together because even though they constantly fucked each other, Lexi still didn’t have any feelings for him- and Courtney’s latest fight with her parents- they had caught her smoking pot in her room.
And then the conversation shifted.
“So,” Courtney began, “How’s Allen?” she said, giving me a coy smile.
“Have you done it yet?” Lexi interrupted.
“No! Oh my god you guys,” I told them truthfully, “why do you always ask me this. I’m beginning to think you guys are some kind of creepy pervs.” I winked at them at the end of my sentence. This was how most of our conversations went- witty humor, sarcasm, and juicy stories or confessions. We were typical teenage girls when I was with them and all of my worries went away. They comforted me in a different way from Allen, though both were equally as important to my life at the moment.
It was freeing, having so many good friends who could support you and let you hang loose, and I was in love.