creative license

You: You can’t stop this.
Me: Yeah, I get that. It’s just, where else am I gonna go? You’ve been my best friend my whole life. World gonna end where else would I want to be?
You: Is this the master plan? You’re going to stop me by telling me you love me?
Me: Well, I was going to walk you off a cliff and hand you an anvil, but it seemed kinda cartoony.
You: Still making jokes.
Me: I’m not joking. I know you’re in pain. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in. And I know you’re about to do something apocalyptically evil and stupid, and hey … I still want to hang. You’re dragqueen.x.
You: Don’t call me that.
Me: First day of third grade . You pissed your pants because you broke the yellow crayon, and you were too afraid to tell anyone. You’ve come pretty far, ending the world, not a terrific notion. But the thing is? Yeah. I love you. I loved crayon-breaky dragqueen.x and I love scary veiny dragqueen.x. So if I’m going out, it’s here. If you wanna kill the world? Well, then start with me. I’ve earned that.
You: You think I won’t?
Me: It doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you.
You: Shut up.

fade to black

She cut off all her hair, took out her purple eyes, and then she cut me loose.

Loose my number was all she wrote.

And okay was all I said.

the day i st(arted)opped loving her

beginning.

we knew each other before we knew each other. pictures of her and me hung on my bedroom walls. i would sit on the floor drawing houses and buildings, and stare at this girl on the wall. who was this girl and why didn't i remember her. we had history, but i couldn't remember it. so i asked my mom. "thats k, and thats you. you guys played together when you were younger. you were like two then." she was k. i was j. and we knew each other before we knew each other.

first contact.

i was on the ground before i knew i was falling. i stared at my hands for a few seconds, and watched as the blood bubbled a little. "nothing a band-aid can't fix" i said, i've been hurt worse. when i was seven my brother ran me over with his bike. if i could survive that, then i could survive anything.

i looked up and i saw this strange creature. she pointed and laughed at me, but i couldn't get past the purple eyes and the brown skin. she was different, but. she had a look in her eyes that was familiar. she was like a siren, and i was a dumb fisherman drawn into her. until a sharp pain in my kidney gained my attention.

she kicked me and was now running away. moments passed and i just layed there on the pavement. my teacher walked over and immediately began yelling at me. "why did you trip her. you're too big to be playing rough with her. no recess for a week." i was lying on the ground, i was bleeding, and my teacher looked passed all of this to believe a field of lies this purple-eyed creature fed her. "now apologize to k, and i wont send a letter home to your mom."

her name was k. and we had history.

signs of trouble

k missed a few days of class and i volunteered to deliver her. i'd never been to her house before, but i'd walked by it on numerous occasions. it was an ordinary house. with an ordinary fence. and an ordinary dog. i knocked on the door and she opened it. she had bandages on her arms so i asked what happened.

she walked into the kitchen. poured a glass of water. grabbed a knife. and slit her finger. and let the blood drip into the glass of water. "look at it. really look. watch as the blood stains the water. its beautiful." "are you crazy" i asked. "yeah...are you?"

i was. i had to be. i didn't run from her that day. i started running head first into oncoming traffic. that was the day i started loving her.

moment of reprieve

purple flamingos. virginity lost. love letters. boy meets world. the ultimatum. me or him. she became tapanga. i became corey. long nights. short days. the slap. beginning of the end.

the break up

it was quick. we were partners in pre-algebra, like we were partners in every class we took together. she was the one deemed "gifted" by the educational system. every wednesday, her and the rest of the gifted students in the eighth grade would disappear from class and have their own special class meetings. she was gifted, i was not. but when it came to math, she looked to me.

the teacher wasn't there that day. we had a substitute. she was young. she was dumb. and she was too busy chatting on her phone to realize the mistakes she was making. i sat in my desk. k sat next to me. i worked, while she did what she did nest, put the fear of god into the other students, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.

BOOM

was the only sound the paper made as it hit k in the head. i watched as she grabbed the paper, walked over to the boy, punched him in the face, and dared him to do something about it. she walked back to me, wrote on the paper, handed it to me, and walked out of the room. I'M SORRY J, it read. I THOUGHT I COULD CHANGE. I CAN'T. I'M SORRY. ITS OVER.

the room was silent. everyone looked at me. they always did. somewhere in the past three years of knowing her, i became responsible for k. i was expected to keep her in line. i was expected to calm her down. i was expected to apologize for her mistakes. the room was silent. everyone looked at me. they always did. i got up and headed towards towards the nearest exit.

it was over before it ever began.

this is my religion

i was molested as a child. thats a fuckin fact. this did not happen behind closed doors. it happened out in the open. i can remember everything. i can see it with the most vivid details. i know when it happened, where it happened, how long it happened, how he looked, and what we did. but no one else knew about this. thats the thing that bothers me. thats the thing that keeps me up at night. thats the thing that makes me push people away. forget the fact that i was molested. how did no one know. how could i sit on this guys lap, suck his nipples, suck his dick, him touch me, him play with my ass, him kiss me and no one knew it. no one found out. no one stopped it. this didn't happen behind closed doors. this shit happened out in the open. i remember the yellow house. the yellow house with the three bedrooms. but i don't remember his. i can see his sisters. ive played in his sisters but ive never been in his room. this shit happened out in the open. in the living room on the floor. on the sofa. under the table. this shit fuckin happened on a fuckin trampoline every fucxkin day out in the fuckin open in the middle of the afternoon. how did no one see this. how did no one catch us. why was this never stopped. i dont get it. it doesnt make sense to me. its the one thing that doesnt make sense to me and it bothers the fuck out of me.

it ends as it always does. a scream. a punch. and a drop of blood. it never fails. and the cycle continues. but its over before it ever begins. same song. same story. same narrative voice. this is your life for the rest of the end. you accept it. you condemn it. it becomes your religion.

life lesson

one. if a person from your past says they miss you, evade that shit and start a new topic like a CHAMP.

two. just because you're breathing, doesn't mean you're alive

three. always come prepared, or fear the wrath of lightbody

four. move to cali

five. never, ever shave your beard completely off.

six. never let them see you sweat. never let them see you cry. never let them break you.

괴물

thought i wanted to do this. i don't know how anymore. school is out. semester two was more successful than the first. came back to georgia. seems i'll be attending a funeral in a few days. friend got shot. i probably wont go. death scares me. i went driving today. really peaceful. reminded me of the two month period i wanted to become a professional truck driver like my grandfather. seems like a great option. i'm always alm when im driving. i work out a lot of shit when im moving. its like therapy to me. maybe thats why i love riding the bus. that and the fact 97 percent of my sketching occurs on metro bus 33/333.