50 mg of sleeping pills down.
So long. Perhaps this time for real.
I'm scared, so scared, but I know it'll be ok. I wish I could tell my boyfriend I love him, Wish I could, wish I could. But he would try to save me. And I don't need saving. I need death.
I want to let someone know. So someone can tell everyone that matters all of the things I wanted them to know. All the things they needed to hear from me. To be content. To know I loved them and maybe didn't appreciate them as much as they deserved.
I want Ben to know. I want him to know I loved him more than anything. That I would be dead since October if not for him. He gave me 6 more glorious months of life. The best times in the middle of the worst. I am so grateful. I love you Ben, I really, really do.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
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20.5.13
19.5.13
A Difference in Opinion
He points to a picture of a skeletal, etherial girl and demands, "Is that what you want to look like???"
And I can't get the words out of my mouth that say, "She is beautiful."
And I can't get the words out of my mouth that say, "She is beautiful."
14.5.13
"Oh It's That Motherfucking Cat Again. That Damn Cat Scratched Me."
"God, Gillian! What happened to your arm?! People are going to think you cut or something!"
13.5.13
This Current Moment
There's nothing worse than talking to your crying boyfriend,
Convincing him that you won't die tonight,
When the empty sleeping syrup stares you in the face.
Daring you to flatly tell him, monotone,
"I promise, I'm fine."
Convincing him that you won't die tonight,
When the empty sleeping syrup stares you in the face.
Daring you to flatly tell him, monotone,
"I promise, I'm fine."
For Posterity
And if there ever comes a day,
When I don't walk by your side,
Please always remember,
I walk in your heart.
When I don't walk by your side,
Please always remember,
I walk in your heart.
Sleep
And anyways, isn't goodnight just goodbye?
A whole bottle of sleeping pills.
Once again.
I love you.
Goodbye.
A whole bottle of sleeping pills.
Once again.
I love you.
Goodbye.
Beaded Blood
In a fit or curiosity I took a knife,
A sharp knife,
An artist's knife,
And drew it across my wrist,
The top where freckles speckle my skin.
I drew a line,
A beautiful line,
And then another,
And then once more,
Until I possessed,
Fourteen little red lines,
Criss crossing my skin.
Separate flesh,
I thought softly,
As the blade cut through,
And my veins weeped,
And my body cried out,
Though I stayed silent.
A sharp knife,
An artist's knife,
And drew it across my wrist,
The top where freckles speckle my skin.
I drew a line,
A beautiful line,
And then another,
And then once more,
Until I possessed,
Fourteen little red lines,
Criss crossing my skin.
Separate flesh,
I thought softly,
As the blade cut through,
And my veins weeped,
And my body cried out,
Though I stayed silent.
1.5.13
Just When You Thought You Couldn't Get Luckier...
This is just something I wrote last year. It's based off of something that actually happened. It's one of the few stories I've ever finished. All the others remain in some form of half finished melancholy.
A tear slid down her
face as she closed the book. She carefully placed it on the shelf next to her
bed and pulled the blanket up protectively and looked around at her sparsely decorated
bedroom. The walls were white and her bed and wardrobe light pinewood. The only
thing of note was a set of floor to ceiling bookcases filled to the brim with
books. She picked up the one she had been reading again and looked at the
cover. It seemed to mock her with the idyllic picture of the lake and
farmhouse. She threw it away from her and it spun through the air bouncing off
the wall and settling onto the carpet face up. She looked away with disgust.
Poor Jesse, poor, poor Jesse. She let another tear drop onto the soft, green fabric of her blanket. She had that hollow sad feeling inside her that she got whenever she read something like that. Desperately sad, a lost love, crushed dreams. She always cried. She felt the need to talk to someone, to ask them Why? Why was it written that way? Why didn’t she go back to him? Why?
But whom should she call. She didn’t want to call him, her boyfriend. She didn’t actually like him that much but he had chased her and chased her and finally she relented, hoping to get him off her back soon. He was moving away next spring she knew so if she could just weather this winter she wouldn’t have to break up with him herself. He would break up with her first she knew, he wouldn’t want to have one of those long distance things. He thought she would suffer without him, he thought she loved him. She honestly couldn’t care less though, he was something to preoccupy herself with. To forget her last boyfriend who broke her heart and take her mind off school. He was big and had large arms that he loved to hold her with. She hated when he held her.
But he was literary, she reminded herself; he read just as she did, devouring any book she could get her hands on. The one she just finished was a reread; she had read it many times before, though the last had been near five years ago. Oh! How she needed someone to talk to! Her cell phone lay next to her. She studied it scrupulously, if she called him now he might think she was warming up to him, he might try harder to get her to love him. On the other hand she was dying to tell someone, and her other friends had surely never read the book. He almost certainly had. She regarded her phone again, she cautiously picked it up. She dialed his number.
“Hello?” his voice was tired and slow; she had woken him up.
“Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” Her voice only cracked once.
“What, my dear?”
“Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” she repeated, a bit impatiently.
“Well, yes, though it was quite a few years ago. Why?” he sounded more than a bit confused.
She sniffed softly then let everything that was pent up burst from her, “Why does Winnie leave Jesse? He loved her! All he did was love her! He loved her to death when he was only seventeen and she eleven! And she squandered his water and then grew up without him! Why?” Her voice had rose in volume and pitch and all of the sudden she was crying, sobbing pitifully, huddled under blankets in her cold bedroom talking to her boyfriend she didn’t even like.
“Are you crying? Why are you crying? Don’t cry! Dear, Dear, Winnie just didn’t understand, she was too young,” he said the words comfortingly. She imagined him in his house, on his bed, miles away wrapped up in that tartan blanket she had lain on with him a few times before.
“But what about when she got older, just like Jesse told her ‘When you’re seventeen, Winnie, you can drink it, and then come find us’ why didn’t she do it? She was old enough to understand then,” her words were choked with tears and her nose was running; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Her feelings just weren’t there anymore, her love for Jesse was six years old by then. Perhaps it went from a wildfire of intensity to just embers sitting in her breast. She probably carried around that faint love for the rest of her life. But I don’t think she was sad, Dear, remember Mae and Tuck saw that she was a mother and a grandmother on her grave. She found someone who loved her that she loved too. Maybe she didn’t like them at first, thinking about Jesse all the time but she grew to love him. She grew straight into his arms. She died happy I’m sure.”
“Oh, Winnie did, I’m sure! I don’t care about her! She was selfish and unfeeling towards poor Jesse! Oh, poor Jesse!” She cried out, “he doesn’t get a respite with death, no, he has to carry around his despair for eternity! He’s Everlasting! He doesn’t get to forget it all when his body gives out. No! Poor Jesse gets to carry around the knowledge that Winnie left him up until today! Past today! His heart must be broken beyond repair, she left him.”
“No, No, Dear she didn’t exactly leave him, she just never re-met him. She chose to be human and to have a life, Dear. It’s a question of human or not human, life or nonlife,” he said comfortingly.
“Nonlife? Jesse was alive! He talked and walked and breathed and loved! He was alive. And how can you say he wasn’t human? He was just as human as Winnie! No, more human than Winnie ever got to be! Jesse was so sweet, so kind to Winnie, he loved her when he had only known her one night. He wanted to spend the infinity with her and she led him on, she left him hoping for near eighty years! Eighty years he hoped and prayed she had drank that water the second she turned seventeen. Eighty years he hoped and prayed she was just out there searching for him just as hard as he was searching for her. No if anyone in that story is inhuman and un-alive it is Winnie Foster,” She felt a smidge of outrage mingle with her anguish.
“No, Jesse was not alive because to be alive you must die eventually and Jesse will never die. And because of that he, and all of his family too, if I am to be fair, was not human either. All humans die, Dear.”
She was quiet, thinking this through. She still thought Jesse was human. How could someone so filled to the brim with life, love, and happiness be non-human? It couldn’t be true; her Jesse had to be human. He was just as alive as her sort of boyfriend she talked to now. Actually he kind of reminded her of her boyfriend, so eager and happy constantly. Like the world was a good place to live in.
“Dear?”
“Yes,” she answered him.
“You know I love you, right? No matter how you feel for me, I will always love you,” his voice was strong, like he was trying to push the message through all of the layers of her defenses and straight into her heart.
“Yes, I know. You’ve told me before,” She was suddenly exhausted. The entire day seemed to pile up behind her and she was suddenly tired. She yawned, “I think I am going to go back to bed.”
“Ok, Dear, just remember, I love you Everlasting.”
“Yes, goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” He hung up and she set the phone down and settled back into her mountain of pillows and blankets.
Poor Jesse, poor, poor Jesse. She let another tear drop onto the soft, green fabric of her blanket. She had that hollow sad feeling inside her that she got whenever she read something like that. Desperately sad, a lost love, crushed dreams. She always cried. She felt the need to talk to someone, to ask them Why? Why was it written that way? Why didn’t she go back to him? Why?
But whom should she call. She didn’t want to call him, her boyfriend. She didn’t actually like him that much but he had chased her and chased her and finally she relented, hoping to get him off her back soon. He was moving away next spring she knew so if she could just weather this winter she wouldn’t have to break up with him herself. He would break up with her first she knew, he wouldn’t want to have one of those long distance things. He thought she would suffer without him, he thought she loved him. She honestly couldn’t care less though, he was something to preoccupy herself with. To forget her last boyfriend who broke her heart and take her mind off school. He was big and had large arms that he loved to hold her with. She hated when he held her.
But he was literary, she reminded herself; he read just as she did, devouring any book she could get her hands on. The one she just finished was a reread; she had read it many times before, though the last had been near five years ago. Oh! How she needed someone to talk to! Her cell phone lay next to her. She studied it scrupulously, if she called him now he might think she was warming up to him, he might try harder to get her to love him. On the other hand she was dying to tell someone, and her other friends had surely never read the book. He almost certainly had. She regarded her phone again, she cautiously picked it up. She dialed his number.
“Hello?” his voice was tired and slow; she had woken him up.
“Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” Her voice only cracked once.
“What, my dear?”
“Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” she repeated, a bit impatiently.
“Well, yes, though it was quite a few years ago. Why?” he sounded more than a bit confused.
She sniffed softly then let everything that was pent up burst from her, “Why does Winnie leave Jesse? He loved her! All he did was love her! He loved her to death when he was only seventeen and she eleven! And she squandered his water and then grew up without him! Why?” Her voice had rose in volume and pitch and all of the sudden she was crying, sobbing pitifully, huddled under blankets in her cold bedroom talking to her boyfriend she didn’t even like.
“Are you crying? Why are you crying? Don’t cry! Dear, Dear, Winnie just didn’t understand, she was too young,” he said the words comfortingly. She imagined him in his house, on his bed, miles away wrapped up in that tartan blanket she had lain on with him a few times before.
“But what about when she got older, just like Jesse told her ‘When you’re seventeen, Winnie, you can drink it, and then come find us’ why didn’t she do it? She was old enough to understand then,” her words were choked with tears and her nose was running; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Her feelings just weren’t there anymore, her love for Jesse was six years old by then. Perhaps it went from a wildfire of intensity to just embers sitting in her breast. She probably carried around that faint love for the rest of her life. But I don’t think she was sad, Dear, remember Mae and Tuck saw that she was a mother and a grandmother on her grave. She found someone who loved her that she loved too. Maybe she didn’t like them at first, thinking about Jesse all the time but she grew to love him. She grew straight into his arms. She died happy I’m sure.”
“Oh, Winnie did, I’m sure! I don’t care about her! She was selfish and unfeeling towards poor Jesse! Oh, poor Jesse!” She cried out, “he doesn’t get a respite with death, no, he has to carry around his despair for eternity! He’s Everlasting! He doesn’t get to forget it all when his body gives out. No! Poor Jesse gets to carry around the knowledge that Winnie left him up until today! Past today! His heart must be broken beyond repair, she left him.”
“No, No, Dear she didn’t exactly leave him, she just never re-met him. She chose to be human and to have a life, Dear. It’s a question of human or not human, life or nonlife,” he said comfortingly.
“Nonlife? Jesse was alive! He talked and walked and breathed and loved! He was alive. And how can you say he wasn’t human? He was just as human as Winnie! No, more human than Winnie ever got to be! Jesse was so sweet, so kind to Winnie, he loved her when he had only known her one night. He wanted to spend the infinity with her and she led him on, she left him hoping for near eighty years! Eighty years he hoped and prayed she had drank that water the second she turned seventeen. Eighty years he hoped and prayed she was just out there searching for him just as hard as he was searching for her. No if anyone in that story is inhuman and un-alive it is Winnie Foster,” She felt a smidge of outrage mingle with her anguish.
“No, Jesse was not alive because to be alive you must die eventually and Jesse will never die. And because of that he, and all of his family too, if I am to be fair, was not human either. All humans die, Dear.”
She was quiet, thinking this through. She still thought Jesse was human. How could someone so filled to the brim with life, love, and happiness be non-human? It couldn’t be true; her Jesse had to be human. He was just as alive as her sort of boyfriend she talked to now. Actually he kind of reminded her of her boyfriend, so eager and happy constantly. Like the world was a good place to live in.
“Dear?”
“Yes,” she answered him.
“You know I love you, right? No matter how you feel for me, I will always love you,” his voice was strong, like he was trying to push the message through all of the layers of her defenses and straight into her heart.
“Yes, I know. You’ve told me before,” She was suddenly exhausted. The entire day seemed to pile up behind her and she was suddenly tired. She yawned, “I think I am going to go back to bed.”
“Ok, Dear, just remember, I love you Everlasting.”
“Yes, goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” He hung up and she set the phone down and settled back into her mountain of pillows and blankets.
Maybe
he wasn’t so bad after all.
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