Eleven things that have happened since I got kicked out
I walked out in the middle of my mother’s sentence,
I smoked weed for the first time in over a year,
And cried in front of the two people I wanted to be strong for.
I criticize myself everyday for being so weak.
I went back to get my clothes
And left with nothing but bruises and a cut lip.
I still blame myself for being so stupid.
I don’t talk about it the first few days.
I drop hints but it’s not until he returns does she find out,
Then I start talking about it.
It’s not that big of a deal, I tell them as I shrug off their worried looks.
It is a big deal, but I numb the pain with music, writing, and weed.
My father and I get into fights about it.
My friends ask me why I haven’t moved back in yet.
Her parents are waiting for the day I leave.
I’m a fucking burden everywhere.
I get really drunk at a party and kiss a boy.
He tells me I’m sexy and I laugh
And go on to ask for the two people I’ve cried in front of.
I need to cry again—more this time—but end up with ugly hickies.
I’m not really friends with the boy anymore
And it doesn’t matter that we’ve kissed or that he’s seen me cry.
Another girl has his heart and she’s all he has time for.
I’m still friends with the girl
But we need space because she calls me stupid and I make her feel so.
I miss my mother.
I get drunk and high at another party.
I spend almost the entire time wandering from one small group to another.
I talk a lot to a boy who loves music and later calls me perfect.
The boy with my first kiss thanks me for caring.
I wonder a lot why everyone adores me if I’m shit.
I get my clothes and papers back as my mother sobs.
She asks if this is what I want—separate lives.
Out of spite, anger, stupidity, and pride I answer yes.
What I really want is to hug her and cry.
I try to repair myself with no help again.
When I get lonely I talk to the boy who calls me perfect
And I get a job that doesn’t give me enough hours.
I wish repeatedly that I had just stayed with my father.
I have to go to prom.
I want the two people I’ve sobbed in front of there,
But he refuses to go even though he can do whatever he wants now.
I just want my friend back and I try to shake him awake from his numbness.
I worry a lot about him. And her. And everyone.
I refuse to worry about myself because I deserve this pain.
I spend the day with the two people who’ve seen me cry
And it makes me happy.
It isn’t until we’re alone do I realize he’s her friend now and not mine anymore.
We spend Wednesday with a crowd
And the boy who finds me perfects sings until I sleep.
Maybe I’m sad but I can still feel happiness, so I’m hopeful.
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