Two Fucked Up People
Editors Note: A new writer with a whole lot of bang.
Always have been an excellent component in a modern day joust called breakups- I pop a few klonopins to numb the pain that I’m about to feel- Slaps in the face and spits in the eye- Oh come on, I beg you to hit me back- imagine the feeling of a blow to the face- seems like it would calm my rage- Throwing the book I bought him by Marcus Aurelius for him as a present- You’re a pathetic “artist” and everything you write is shit- he quickly retorts with- Katie was a better writer than you, and she’s smarter than you; always has been- Furious by this statement, I contemplate smashing his computer with all of his writings and dumping his beloved klonopin down the toilet- You’d better not do that- He’s warning me, but it feels good- wonder if I’m trying to get him to hit me the way my dad used to- seems familiar and cathartic- punch me in the face why don’t you- I WANT YOU TO- Later, sittin’ in the floor crying for the hell of it, and telling him I want to kill myself- He tells me there’s a gun in the house- the tears stop and my body moves to the door- He won’t let me through, so he must have been bluffing about aiding me in my suicide- Had I had the gun in my hand, I would have shot myself in the temple, not wanting to die, but doing it because I have too much pride and I wanted to prove a point- He’s packing my things, I’m arranging to stay with my male boss, who is elated to have me staying in his spare bedroom- Told him I’d fucked him real good- he bent me over and fucked me hard enough to make me moan- You’re a stupid fucking prick. Maybe Ben was right about you- You’re a pathetic piece of shit-You have no feelings about anyone but yourself- No wonder you have no friends. I look into his eyes, and nothing seems to hurt him- you’re disgusting- you’re nothing to me-I don’t even love you- I don’t even care about you- Get out now- I don’t want to wait for you to pack- Feel like I’m breaking down, my drug addled brain tries to make sense- Why are you doing this- Why do you not love me now when you told me you’d love me forever last night- He’s shoving things into my suitcase without even bothering to make things tidy. I only said that because you said it first- I believed him. He had no soul inside him- He’s a sick person; someone I need to cut from my life now, before it’s too late and I’ve already killed myself- As I’m thinking this, I’m rummaging through the kitchen drawer for a butcher knife- Sit in the back room and try to cut my wrists- Stupid fucking blade isn’t sharp enough to hit the vein, it only brakes the skin, causing a subtle stream of blood- If you don’t put that knife down right now, I swear to God I’ll call the police- Believing him, and fearing being taken away and locked up, I stab the knife into the ground and go back to
our room-He doesn’t know that he’s cutting me deep with the words that he’s saying- deeper than a sharp knife to my wrists- I search for my keys because I want to run my car off a bridge- This seems less plausible, because I don’t want to wreck my car. Suicide sounds better than wrecking my car- He won’t let me have the keys- WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? Because I am in love with Caleb- I love him- He says this, but it’s no revelation; it seems to bring him relief-Caleb will never love you back- less pissed off, my trying to make sense of this fucked up mess- Well what did I do to make you fall out of love with me- You haven’t- I still love you- His voice softens and he brings me in to lay my head on his chest- I love you, too- Sometimes I’m just afraid, ok- I like to fuck things up when they’re going too well- I think we’re perfect for each other- that scares me- Two sick, fucked up people being perfect for each other.
(via borderlinebeautiful-deactivated)
January 24th, 2012 30 notes #Spilled ink prose #Suicide #bisexuality #break up #klonopin #love #prose #featured
