You wake up
And then there’s just black. You can’t breathe and you can’t move
You can’t speak.
You pray, because really, if you didn’t, you’d just up and die.
You move an inch and then you’re released because god gave a shit for half a second, and now you won’t die.
That’s the idea.
Selfishness and helplessness
These go hand in hand. Your neediness and unwillingness to do anything for yourself or for others, expecting more than you give in return. You give nothing and yet you expect something.
He’s walking to class.
Late again, like yesterday, every day, since last year
You’re blaming the distance and your alarm clock. You get there in the middle of class, and your face is set, justified, believing that you’re in the right, and they’re in the wrong. Who are they to judge you, these teachers?
Go sit down.
Like if you have a choice. You sulk and you dislike them, even though they’ve done nothing but try and teach you respect.
You smile towards them, and they do it back. Fucking fakes.
They’re asking you for your homework, and you don’t hand it in. Why should you anyways? You’re intelligent.
Smarter than the students, than the teacher
You know better, and you don’t do anything.
Good, you’re already forgotten in their minds.
You’re walking with a friend, and she needs to go home. Obviously she can’t go home alone , the mile going there, alone. She looks at you, hopeful, and you smile, and leave.
I need to go home! You yell
They need me
And they really don’t
She does.
She smiles, and nods her head. And she goes, like many others, you won’t see her again. Soon, you won’t see many of them again.
You’re walking home, and every day, you lie.
You lie at school
At home
To your friends
Mostly to yourself… The act of believe yourself doesn’t require much persuasion, you just do and you’re fine with it.
And lying gets easier, so much easier
You go home and your sick mother
Your poor sick mother is there
You kiss her on the head, and you give her water
And you leave. You don’t direct another word at her for the rest of the day, night.
As if you helped
But you lie
And you say you do
And you use her as an excuse to do nothing
Your father is yelling at you
Telling you, asking you
Fucking pleading you
Why won’t you do anything?
Anything at all?
And you, self-satisfied
You lie and scream with the same conviction as his
That you do
That you do so much
And you cry
With your sour tears, you’re trembling on the floor, sobbing, feeling victimized and lonely and hurt.
And he pats you on the head and tells you it’s alright.
Friend after friend after friend
You tell them stories, of what your life is.
My dad beat me when I told him I was gay…they treat me like shit at home. I do everything there!
Can you believe that?
Can you?
You’re willing to do anything, anytime, until the last moment.
You want to go do something fun?
Something worthwhile?
Something
Something, they ask you, and you tell them yes. Yes of course! With all your enthusiasm, you know you won’t follow through.
Why weren’t you there?
And you tell them your mother is sick.
You tell them your father is you know, “sick”
You owe them this much, that you have to clean the house, and watch your mother. You have to cook some food, and wash the clothing, that you have to stay home because they want you home.
You fucking liar.
You’re not breathing right now.
You’re stock still, and silent.
And you pray to god, because what else can you do? You’re probably dying.
You didn’t finish school, and right now, you’re dying.
Your mother is in a home somewhere, and you haven’t seen her in years.
And you’re not making any sounds.
Your father is alone, at home, working hard to keep things afloat.
And you’re worried about death.
You have no more friends
And you’re praying to god.
You’re stock still, and you’re not breathing, you’re not speaking.
You’re praying to yourself tonight.
Praying, telling god, to save you, right now, and you’ll change who you are, and who you’ll still be.
You’re praying to god, and for a moment, you believe yourself.
