three letters:
h,e,y.
left thumb down, right thumb up, left thumb down.
left thumb up; send.
wait for response...
green light ignites.
phone vibrates.
"hey."
obligatory delay in response. do not appear needy. do not appear needy.
"what's up"
pause, send.
delay in response, put phone down in despair.
stare longingly at screen.
stare longingly at screen.
stare forlornly at screen.
pretend to ignore phone.
pretend not to be ignoring phone because that would be juvenile.
throw tantrum.
green light ignites.
phone vibrates.
sprint to phone, spastically open.
"ha, sorry, i was trying to find a parking place."
watch clock to approximate appropriate amount of time before responding.
act casual.
"ha, no prob."
pause, caress phone, send.
green light ignites.
phone vibrates.
"so, wanna do something this weekend?"
elation.
stay chill.
"sure, that would be fu-"
phone prematurely vibrates.
battery low.
battery low.
please plug in.
please plug in.
please plug in before phone dies, and life is ruined.
cannot find charger.
phone dies.
life is ruined.
fuck.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
black&gold
I
am a bumblebee.
I am not the most beautiful butterfly,
or the fastest wasp.
I do not have the strength of the ant, I cannot lift my own weight.
I cannot climb mountains,
or swim in the sea.
Because
I
am a bumblebee.
I am the black of night, and the gold of the sun.
I am covered in a layer of softness
and a fine coating of glistening pollen.
I am fortune,
and I am a fighter.
And by the laws of nature,
I should not stay afloat.
But that will not stop me.
Because
I
am a bumblebee
am a bumblebee.
I am not the most beautiful butterfly,
or the fastest wasp.
I do not have the strength of the ant, I cannot lift my own weight.
I cannot climb mountains,
or swim in the sea.
Because
I
am a bumblebee.
I am the black of night, and the gold of the sun.
I am covered in a layer of softness
and a fine coating of glistening pollen.
I am fortune,
and I am a fighter.
And by the laws of nature,
I should not stay afloat.
But that will not stop me.
Because
I
am a bumblebee
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Ward
I started to take the pills again today.
One yellow, One blue, Three white.
Roger said I had to.
He said I shouldn't have stopped.
I told him I was fine, but he said,
No Melinda. No you are not fine.
I said,
I only saw him once, and this time I didn't talk back to him, just like you said!
and he said,
Melinda, if you saw him that is bad enough.
And I said,
But I don't see why it matters as long as I know he's not real!
And he said,
Melinda,
I'm concerned.
Concerned.
That's what he said.
So I took the pills again, even though I am certain that they are trying to trick me.
Even though they take away my pretty dreams, and replace them with grey ones.
Then, when I showed him that they were all gone, that they had all been swept down into the cavern of my mouth, Roger began to write more.
Write, write, write.
That's what Roger does.
He has a white pad, and a black pen.
The pen used to be green, but now it's black.
He says it's because the green pen died, but I'm pretty sure that it's because I told him that the green reminded me of spring, so he hid it.
They don't like us to think about spring.
They say,
Focus on yourself for now, spring will still be there when you are ready.
They say,
Maybe if you participate in group work, you will get a trip to the countryside to see some spring.
But they do not know.
They do not know that I have hidden a bit of spring.
That I stole the green house from the monopoly board during game time.
And that at lights-out, I hid it inside my vent by the door.
They never check there.
Roger says that I need to work more during group sessions.
I say,
You try having a decent conversation with a bunch of blithering idiots.
He says,
Melinda, those are good people. It's not right of you to call them names.
Then I say,
Fine, I will talk during group session if you give me your pad.
And he says,
Melinda, We've been over this before. This pad is mine. If you would like to write on your own there is paper and markers in the craft corner.
I will not. Go. To the craft corners.
Not by all the cutters and pasters.
They are even worse than the group session fools.
They just sit there and cut and paste and cut and paste.
At least they don't mumble though.
The mumblers are the very worst.
Them and the droolers.
Roger, he says that when I attack the ways that other people live, I am just trying to justify my own actions. But I'm pretty damn sure he's a nutter too.
All he does is write, write, write. Nod, nod, nod.
He could probably uses some decent therapy.
Honestly.
I'm really quite concerned.
One yellow, One blue, Three white.
Roger said I had to.
He said I shouldn't have stopped.
I told him I was fine, but he said,
No Melinda. No you are not fine.
I said,
I only saw him once, and this time I didn't talk back to him, just like you said!
and he said,
Melinda, if you saw him that is bad enough.
And I said,
But I don't see why it matters as long as I know he's not real!
And he said,
Melinda,
I'm concerned.
Concerned.
That's what he said.
So I took the pills again, even though I am certain that they are trying to trick me.
Even though they take away my pretty dreams, and replace them with grey ones.
Then, when I showed him that they were all gone, that they had all been swept down into the cavern of my mouth, Roger began to write more.
Write, write, write.
That's what Roger does.
He has a white pad, and a black pen.
The pen used to be green, but now it's black.
He says it's because the green pen died, but I'm pretty sure that it's because I told him that the green reminded me of spring, so he hid it.
They don't like us to think about spring.
They say,
Focus on yourself for now, spring will still be there when you are ready.
They say,
Maybe if you participate in group work, you will get a trip to the countryside to see some spring.
But they do not know.
They do not know that I have hidden a bit of spring.
That I stole the green house from the monopoly board during game time.
And that at lights-out, I hid it inside my vent by the door.
They never check there.
Roger says that I need to work more during group sessions.
I say,
You try having a decent conversation with a bunch of blithering idiots.
He says,
Melinda, those are good people. It's not right of you to call them names.
Then I say,
Fine, I will talk during group session if you give me your pad.
And he says,
Melinda, We've been over this before. This pad is mine. If you would like to write on your own there is paper and markers in the craft corner.
I will not. Go. To the craft corners.
Not by all the cutters and pasters.
They are even worse than the group session fools.
They just sit there and cut and paste and cut and paste.
At least they don't mumble though.
The mumblers are the very worst.
Them and the droolers.
Roger, he says that when I attack the ways that other people live, I am just trying to justify my own actions. But I'm pretty damn sure he's a nutter too.
All he does is write, write, write. Nod, nod, nod.
He could probably uses some decent therapy.
Honestly.
I'm really quite concerned.
speak.
i am so very done
with the silent treatment.
grow up.
learn to use your words.
whatever you would say, good or bad,
just get the friggin guts to do it.
because no one likes a coward.
but lets be serious, you should have learned this all in third grade.
with the silent treatment.
grow up.
learn to use your words.
whatever you would say, good or bad,
just get the friggin guts to do it.
because no one likes a coward.
but lets be serious, you should have learned this all in third grade.
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