there is a picture in my living room
of my parents in their twenties, in sunhats,
there is a picture of my father holding me
when i was two years old.
there is a picture of my parents
on their wedding day.
there is a picture of me when i was
ten, eleven, twelve.
i’m seventeen now and
i won’t let my mother
take any of the pictures
i need to believe that, at one point,
this house was more than just
i was born on the second-to-last day
i weighed seven pounds, two ounces,
and it was ninety-nine degrees out.
four years before that, in 1992,
the officers who beat rodney king
within an inch of his life
five years before that, in 1991,
a cyclone in Bangladesh killed
138,000 people and made 10 million
ten years before that, in 1986,
a fire in a Los Angeles library
damaged more than 400,000
and on that day, april 29, 1996, i was born
and i’d like to pretend
that it was a go
while soft hands explore
for whats in store
A trail of kisses
Down the small of my back
My body reacts.
A brush of fingertips
Gently trace every outline
With love undefined
Heartbeats accelerate together
Racing at new speeds
Bodies embracing one another
A sharing of heart and soul
Making me whole
Sensuality ignited by every touch
Bonding through love and lust
An exchange of trust
Minds losing innocence
Trusting and loving the best we can
For who I am.
Embraces of more than flesh
in our romantic pantomime
this is to me
Making love for the first time
It was like a world populated only by youths. Everybody walked around with rucksacks, mostly in little packs of three or four. Jeans almost ubiquitous, although a few dressed in bright colours, punk or goth.
Apart from that, however, it was absolutely nothing like it was portrayed in movies and TV shows.
Sure, there were some students who made the most of the student union’s bar as well as its weekly parties – which, in turn, took a heavy toll on their wallets – but you were amongst the majority of the sensible ones who worked hard to get good grades in all of your modules whilst balancing a part time job during the weekends.
You were studying English literature at Sina University and were working on your dissertation for your final year.
All day long, you’d been sitting in your room, research articles piling higher and higher. Save the trees, huh? You didn’t think your lecturers here had ever heard
- Prologue/ Information
Clothes - Black Skinny Jeans, f/c DrMartens, f/c vest top, black short sleeved hoodie, black fingerless gloves ( like Ash Ketchum's gloves but not green)
Walking through the shadow dwelling streets was normal for me, I'm not scared of the dark, nor am I scared of what may be lurking there. Without being in control of it, I've always been quite an intimidating character to those around me, people tend to stay away from me. And that's just how I like it. Perhaps it’s my ___e/c___ eyes, they are sharp, and they do start to glow slightly when I'm angry, that's unusual I guess. My family used to ask me, 'Aren't you lonely _______?', and I'd always reply with a shake of the head, indicating a no. And that was the truth, I never got lonely, in fact, I preferred solitude, I've been alone most of my life, even when my family were around I felt as if I was alone. Being uncomfortable in large crowds was normal too, right? Well I certainly can't s
- - - -
I love you. You raised me perfectly. Please don't let this letter make you doubt that. It is because of you, that I'm the person I am today. Please keep an open mind about this, and that no matter what happens, I will always be your child. I'll simply say this right now, I'm not pregnant, I'm not on drugs and I don't drink. That's not what this is about. My hand is shaking as I write this, it's really hard for me. In all honesty, I'm terrified about what you will think, and how you will react. I'm still the same person I've always been, your only child, and nothing will ever change that. This is also not a phase, mom. I haven't made this decision based on the past couple days, the past couple weeks, or the past couple months. I've been feeling this way for well over two years now.
I hate this, mom. The feeling that I don't belong in my own body. It's like my mind is linked elsewhere. This body of mine is just a shell. I have the body of a girl, but t
because what i'm trying to say is
i'm not a good person.
i don’t tell valerie about how i planned to rekindle
my friendship with charlie’s best friend last year
just so i could get to him and hurt him.
(i don’t tell her how, in the end, i ended up liking
his friend instead, and charlie dated another
fifteen year old
because shit happens and what was i doing,
expecting things to go my way?)
there are certain things she doesn’t need to know,
certain things i can’t say because
putting it into words what it was like waking up,
that sort of shame that came with it –
it was like – it was like looking into a window
and swearing there’s a monster behind it
before, slowly, i realized
it was a mirror.
what therapy promises me: love yourself, forgive but
never forget, tell us your past
then let it go.
what i learn in therapy: nobody has all the answers.
we certainly don’t.
People will let you down.
You’ll love them, anyways.
Don’t let anyone romanticize
It won’t be beautiful
when somebody breaks your heart
the first time
or the second
or the eighteenth.
Pain is not beautiful.
Maybe on paper
but not inside of you
not in numbers.
A million people
but you’re still here,
and that's important.
You're doing something
My father told me
“Be selfish –
if you don’t take care of you
I liked to think
that this is the reason
he ignored me
I don’t have good advice
on this one.
Because the people who let you down,
are the ones promised to save you.
Are the ones promised to love you
and protect you
and I’ll tell you,
nothing quite hurts
like waking up in the morning
to the police in your doorway.
Nothing quite hurts
like being eleven
and hearing a cop say
“Poor girl had to live wi