My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake

I choked my brother, my mother called the cops.

I am so fucking scared, of everything.

I wake up to my temple burning from the bit of sun bashing through the blinds onto my face. I look at the clock and shut my eyes visioning the clock just two hours ago when i went to bed. Finally, i have realized how i'm a sucker for pickup lines. All night, i stay up talking to a boy, well, he's a man, a man, who resides light years away. I hear his voice and my face stretches out a smile. I grab onto my pillow pretending it's him, and i throw my arms around myself. I know it'll never happen.
When i roll over and sit up, i can hear my brittle bones cracking. My left leg down first. Agonizing pain shoots through the ball of my foot, right up my leg, and to my spine. 1, 2, 3, like a pinball machine. I break at the back, the knee and then the foot. I fall back to the bed, and hide under the covers. I hold my breath as if i'm under water. I come back up for air when i hear my phone go off. He is special, when he calls, he has a song. But no special text tone. I know it's not him. I hesitate to take another step, but when i finally do- one mission accomplished.
The floor is cold, and my feet are freezing and clammy. I can see my footprints on the floor as i look back, and then disappear within a few seconds. My shadow follows. The phone is all that i stare at the whole time i walk. I know it's not him, though.

Today, i tell myself i'm not allowed to eat. Skin and bones do not allow food. I make my coffee, and try to wake myself up. Caffeine is a drug, i do drugs, i do drugs every single day. More than once, even twice. I drink up and i know i won't get a jolt. I remain drowsy. I look fat, and bloated from drinking so fast. Pregnant. I think up a story of a boy getting me pregnant, and being so upset because he refuses to take care of the child with me. He doesn't want to be with me. He doesn't want there to be an us..he doesn't want us.
Today is the day i'm going to do something productive. I take a hold of the curtains, and force them to their sides, and stand in front of the gigantic window, glaring out. All the cars zipping around, and the objects, remind me of fish. My window is a fish tank. the outside, is the inside of the tank. I hold it all. I make whatever i want out of it. I hold it all.
My shirt is worn, my nipples, and every unbroken rib show through the shirt. I stretch my arms out, and my back is curved. "Hello world." I whisper. No one can see me. There is no need to feel self conscious, even though i am. My hair is a mess; a lion mane. I was going to do it, because he was supposed to be here. He didn't show.

He told me he was going to stop by last night, and that we would have a sleepover. Eight hours later, he is ringing my bell, and i'm standing on piled phonebooks, viewing him through the peephole. When i open the door, he just shakes his head at me, and then shows me his teeth. I pull him in, and shut the door, and we still don't speak a word. Apologize you dickhead. He picks me up, and i wrap my small body around him like a grapevine.

"Sorry i didn't call" Jesus Christ, finally. I give him 'the look' and shoot him back with an "It's iight nigga". He laughs at me. I'm so white. I skip through the narrow hall, and he tells me not to get dressed, that he will undress. I stop. My stomach turns as i think of last night. He was probably with her, and he probably said that to her. I hate HER. I never met her, but i know that i do. Basically, i'm jealous.
He shut the blinds, and then the curtains, and i feel like he has ended my day.

He comes to lay with me, and i run my fingers on his body. Throughout each and every groove that he's got placed on him. I think about her doing the same thing a few hours earlier. I can hear the bed squeaking, the voices yelling. Fuck you both. I turn over, and think of numerous things so that i can get my mind off them. Secretly, i want him to get out, but i don't know why i don't tell him to do so. I suppose it's because he gets me. He always knows what's wrong with my mind and my heart. He's got that mothers instinct. He does not have the mothers nurture or care, though.

I feel his cold hands touch me, and his fingers are now running down my body. When he moves down further, i hear continuous hollow thumps when his knuckles hit my ribs. He tells me i've gotta eat. And i mumble "You've gotta start loving me back." He doesn't hear me. He heard a whisper, but he doesn't play the game, and try to figure out what i've said. I just sigh, let out all my held in anger. Walk into the kitchen and grab a mug, and sit on top of the counter. I can feel goosebumps coming out from my skin.
I don't even need to say anything to him, and he knows somethings not right. He puts his lips together, and smiles. I can hear them rip apart from each other as he grins. Again, we don't speak. We just hug, and he leaves. Everything is in reverse...


I contemplate on whether i should, or shouldn't take care of my hygiene. I need to shower, but my hair is looking real good. So i don't shower. I put on my clothes, pack a few things into a stolen Nike duffel bag and grab my purse. When i'm walking down the street, i become deaf; i only see. I am not aware of my surroundings in my ears. As i walk quicker, the faster i feel like breaking down.
My mouth is killing me from keeping my teeth clenched down. They shut and chatter on and off. On, off, on, off, on, off, on. I can hold off though. I was never one to cry in public- the real world.
I stop at the edge of the road, and i am petrified. I hate, i fucking hate crossing the street. I put myself in a small crowd of pushy, rushing people. And i am stepped on, leaned on, and feel harassed. The man behind me pushes beside, me, and grabs my bag and tries to pull me along, and tells me to hurry up, he hasn't got all day. I punch him, i want to kill him, and tell him to go to hell, and thanks a fucking lot.

I stare down the opposite side of the one way road. I am still lost. I don't yield to a taxi; they always just come to me.
He smiles. Instantly, i think of Lil Wayne. He doesn't have grills, they are his permanent choppers. When i open the door, i see that there are ashes and butts in the crack of the ripped gray seat. I remember when i was younger i used to pick up cigarette butts of the ground and light them up, and smoke them in my bathroom. I thought i was so bad ass. This is probably why i am now sick. I sit down, and He asks me "Where to Ma?" I only blink at him, and my lips are glued shut. He turns around to look at me, and i become nervous. I have a knife in my purse. I open my mouth, and i can taste the blood. I lick my lips, and let it burn. "Bay, where da fuck we going!?" I just stare at him. "....Home..take me home."
I can feel him staring at me in the mirror. I can see it. It makes me uncomfortable. And the more uncomfortable i feel, the more i feel like breaking down. I just want to crash and burn. I let seldom tears run from the corners of my eyes. I don't want to make it obvious that i wipe them away. I hate when i can taste them. I can feel the ocean in my mouth. It makes me think of formers times at the beach. I miss life.

I begin to notice we're not getting anywhere, and i tell him he can stop. Hand him five dollars, and i don't care how much it was. Keep it all if it's too much. I stand clueless in front of an endless count of chinks yelling in my face and walking toward me. Hovering over me.
"15 DOLLA, I GIVE TO YOU FUH 9 DOLLA!"
They are so obnoxious. I want to spit on there faces. I walk away, and for six blocks, i say "stay the fuck away." over and over. The autumn breeze chills my clothes, and i can feel my face and body getting wind burn. I get into a cafe and my temperature begins to rise and my stomach tells me i'm hungry. I order my drink and take a seat keeping to myself. Associating with absolutely no one. I can hear shuffled heels coming my way and the drop of a bag. I continue to just stare out the window, keeping to myself, and associating with no one. I see a dull reflection. But i can't make out the face of who it is.
"...Lexi?"
remember this voice and i zone out and the voice fades into my head.
"God you look like shit. You doing alright?"
He always said such things. Now i remember him.
"Thanks asshole."
He laughs as if i said it as i took his comment well. I didn't.

He laughs and takes a seat, not knowing he's uninvited. He discusses his job, and school, and what he's doing with his life, and i'm barely listening. But i smile, and i nod acknowledging his success. He's happy, i'm proud. When he asks about me, i finally take a look at him. He's gorgeous. I don' have much to say, and i never really do anymore.
"Uh, i've been okay."
That's all. I've just been okay. He gives me that look. That look where you know it means "Aw, i'm sorry." I don't tell him that i know this look.
But i say "Don't worry about it. Don't feel bad."
He snaps out of it, and understands. I cut it short, and say i've got things to do. I'm a liar, i have nothing to do but aimlessly walk. He hugs me goodbye, and hands me a piece of paper. I don't want it, i won't call.
We were in the same class. We never spoke. But i remember the first time i saw him, we were at a party. That's all i remember. I was too fucked up. My life begins to fall apart when i'm sober. I used to try my best to catch a buzz, or get drunk. It used to be okay. I used to love it and crave it. After time though, and after drama, and after bullshit. I let go. I let myself go. It all used to seem so good not remembering the previous days pain. I say used to, as if things are different now.

I have to start walking home. Heh, where the fuck is home? I can't even find home in my head. there's no good state of mind. I've lost myself; i'm gone. I've lost my friends. I've lost my family. I've lost myself. I'm alone. You fucked me up so bad. It kills me everyday little, by little. I've never admitted to that. You said one thing that was right though, I am back where i started. I am nobody.
Saint, saint, saint, SIN. There will never be anyway to change that. You never become a saint again. You weren't even born one, to begin with. You were a mistake. Your mom was naive and settled for anything. Wrong doings will always remain as wrong doings. I am going straight to hell. I really think we all are.

The more and more i think, the more i wish i would have kept that number. I try to remember the numbers. I can only recall remembering the 69 at the end of the seven digits. For once, the phone books that i let pile up in front of the door will be used for something other than a step stool. Too bad i can't even remember his name.
In grade school, i'd always stare at him. never spoke to him. He was awkward, he'd think i was crazy. After time, i finally noticed he started to stare back. His eyes were mean though.
"Why do you look at me like that?"
When i asked that, i thought he was going to drop dead. His answer held a vibration through his stuttering words. I could feel it in my throat, it made me choke up. When i think about it, it still does. As bad as he did.
"You always look at me, but i don't think you mean to. You uh, you.." He just stops. "You look out towards me, but beyond me. Like, your mind and eyes wander a lot further than you may think they're heading. You know, you have really sad eyes. I think they're beautiful though, like, they're blue because i can tell you don't cry. You hold it in. I don't know...And your soul too, you're just sad all over, each part of you. But, you're beautiful. so when i stare at you, i just give you a hard look..cause i'm looking hard through you, i can never get passed a certain point though."
I remember that, but i can't remember a fucking name.

I stroll around getting lost. I am nowhere to be found. I see lovers walking around, and i think of the day i'll be doing the same. I can't even shut my eyes and see it. It's gonna be like this forever. I look at him, and it's as if she becomes envious of me. For what? I've never taken someones man. There has been multiple times when someone has taken mine, though. I've always played it off as if it never phased me. It always fucking killed me. Knowing that i've got someone who for once tells me that i'm their everything, and that they love me, and i'm amazing. And then some tramp who gives a little more come around, and she's on the chopping block next. I'm never worth it. I hate it. I act like it doesn't phase me.

I can feel people peering through me, and staring at me. Do they see sadness or beauty? I do, and he is sitting by a tree with the fewest leaves left on the branches. I trudge my way over near the lonely man and tree. They keep each other company. I sit between the two twisted roots that stick up from out of the ground. His clothes are raggy, he looks dirty. So stressed, so tired. We look alike. I've always thought the less fortunate were the one's blessed with the better things in life- they're so wise in their own way. Like they might have an answer that matters, or that's at least reasonable. When he looks at me, i know he wants me to leave.
"What do you see?"
"What the fuck do you mean?"
"Exactly what i said. What do you see?"
He looks me up and down, and straightens out his body, and returns to his previous form.
"Confusion. I look at you and see complete confusion. I see a woman, even though you are young. You're not ok, and i can tell. Your eyes are black. Your frame is small, and when you lean that certain way towards the light, i can see your bones projecting outward. Whens shit gonna change? Don't you wanna get better?"
I can only look away.
He tells me "You're gonna be alright." I have heard that a million times. I'm going to hear it a million more times. He grabs his scarf, winks, and walks away.

I'm still lost. I'm still confused. I'm still a sinner. I'm gonna be alright.

I color coordinate the leaves. And i put their sizes and their shapes together. OCD. The wind picks them up, and carries them one by one to a different part of the city. I stand back up, and lean into the wind. Swinging and swaying. My clothes do the same. I feel my eyelashes hit back against my eyelids. They're dried out. I keep them shut tight. Tighter, tighter, tighter, i see different colors. I never see black. My lips dried out. My mind dried up. Closed fists between my arms and against my rib cage. There he is.
"Do you trust me?"
"Not at all."
But i fall back anyway. There he is.
"Why'd you do that if you don't trust me?"
For a second, it felt right. I trusted my instincts, my gut feeling.

Still holding me. Tighter, and tighter, and tighter. I wish he'd let go. I don't trust him at all. I would like to ask him if he remembers what he said to me the first day that we spoke. When we were so innocent. He knows it's coming his way. I've always embarrassed him when we spoke. Putting him on the spot. He can't answer because it's awkward to talk about. And it drives me fucking crazy. He is awkward, and i'm crazy. Things never change.

Never change. I am not a saint. He is not a saint. No one is a saint. We will all go to hell. We will all be the ones who convert it into heaven. Some like the pain, and the hurting. I like the pain and hurting. I then have an actual reason to feel like shit. I pretend. How sickening. Why am i so god damn sickening?
I give my number in exchange of his hug. Grab a hold of his hands, and just turn away. I cannot look at him. I just turn away. I'm on my mission to nowhere..yet again.


Wind is picking up, and people are beginning to rush around much more faster than they usually do. I mimic this behavior. I walk faster, and faster. I begin to breathe heavier, and heavier, and i'm becoming dizzy and sick. And i wish everything would stop. Stop. I want everything to stop. I stop. Right in the middle of the busy street. People swerve and honk and curse. And i don't care. I think of the first time i was emotionally broken and fucked. Right now i want everything to fucking stop.

Taxi number 6083 slams on the brakes and i push my thin, weak hands, down onto his hood and scream bloody murder.
WHAT.
All movement stops. All eyes on me. And pressure, absolute pressure is thrown at me at every single direction. And i can feel the heat of fear coming off of every person. And i become furious. I want to go insane. I can't take it. Fury. Every bone in my body feels heavy and they're burning. I want to tear off skin. Tear it the fuck off now. I can't take it.
I collapse, and bury my face deep into my hands. I can hear my eyes quiver, and it sounds like thunder. Make it stop, make the sound stop. I can't cover my ears and defeat this sound. I take my hair by the handful and pull. Pull it the fuck out now. I can't breathe. I lose my train of thought and i can't grasp what happened. Did he hit me?


Dread locks fall onto my shoulder, and i'm picked up, and thrown into the cab. Lil Wayne is back in the front seat. Aimlessly driving. His voice is quiet. And i want him to keep talking.
"I seen people get jumped and fucked up, niggas get shot, kids doing crazy nasty shit. I never see dat be- what you did, i never seen dat. I hope i never do either, girl. It sad fuckin' shit."
I hear him, and i refuse to take it in.
"You iight?"
Fine, i am fucking fine. I'm going to be alright. A million people have told me i'm going to be alright.
"Yeah..."
It's such a hesitated answer, that he laughs. i can see him looking at me.
"Ahahah, no you ain't."
I feel crushed. Someone finally pointed it out. That's what i've been looking for. An agreement. Not a pity party. Not someone telling me i'm beautiful. Not someone telling me i'll be ok. Someone calling me out. I become offended though. Because it still doesn't add up.
"For the first time, in a long time, and possibly even ever, i can agree with the most common statement i've heard. I don't know what is wring with me. After time, i began to deny my denial. I have never been sufficient, and for as many years as i've tried to be, it was never possible. It's path-I'm pathetic. I need someone to point out my way to get my life on track."
I can tell he's listening. He looks fucking petrified.
"You don't understand how scared and lonely i am. And mostly, i'm scared of being lonely for the rest of my time. I'm not okay by myself."
His eyes reflecting in the mirror look into my watering eyes. He shakes his head waiting for more.
"When i'm alone, i think alone. I think sick, and crazy shit, and i drive myself fucking insane. I have made myself a maniac. I wish it would stop because it's what makes myself alone. I make myself alone. I make myself scared. I let loneliness grow upon me, and build up one sad part at a time."
My long breaths quiver, and i gag from trying to keep down the sobs.
"One big chaotic flaw. I'm not even living, it's as if i don't exist. Because that's where i put myself. I single myself out and hide from everything. Whether you think it or not, that's how i see it, that's how i feel and live.
I'm ashamed of others seeing me the way that i see myself."
I'm fucked up, i need help. I want help, someone please help.

I will bend my bones forward , hunching my body over like a cat, and allow you to rest your head inside the emptiness of my chest where my body once was. Your brain mends with my heart, and the effect takes it's toll throughout every pulsing vein that exists in our bodies.  We, us two, become siamese.  And these are the times that my nine lives mean the most.

 

We stumble and bruise our skin, and fail to make it across the world.  The moment we hit the ground, i can feel the asphalt grind into my ligaments.  I'm sorry, if it wasn't for the extra baggage, we wouldn't have crashed.  I'm sorry, this is all on me, and oh, how i cry.  The salt projects into our wounds, and burns away.  Because of me, we beome decrepit time after time, and phrase after phrase, and because of me after because of me...everytime.

 

It is no longer just my hands injuring my skeleton.  You take part in the damaging.  But what you do not know is tht this is your property as well.  You understand it hurts me more than it does yourself, though.

Your head is still engraved into me, and your words and thoughts have now seeped deep into my aorta letting me give out  little more.

 

I suppose i've lost too much blood due to your impairs.  My percent of personality has become below average time after time.  And that phrase, "It's not you."  comes into play.  But why?  Because of me.

 

I croak the forbidden words.  I tell you i'll do better, and that things will change.  I have even said to you, "I will rip myself away from you, and sew you back together.  I'll fix you, so for your sake you..so that you will be better.  I am just a parasite latched onto you."  I am the ending boundry, there's nowhere left to roam.

 

I cannot stand the guilt trip.  And how i manage myself to fall into the clasping trap each time?  I do not fucking know.  I try to pull away, but you've now become the disease hooked onto me.  You've always been hooked onto my outsides, trying to tear your way through each molecule that's left of me.  Slowly, i remain to suffer, disabling myself to get back up.

 

So if i must, i will crawl away with my nails dug into the ground, broken at the cuticle.  I've left a path of broken bits of whatever i have lost, and that's where they must stay.

Eight lives down.  I'm only down to one; down to my own.