(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Eight: Breakeven --The Script

Karma is the principal that keeps bitches in check. Karma is also the bitch that I don't want catching up to me. Or maybe she already has. Too bad the bitch is hiding in a non-physical form, otherwise I would have knocked the living daylights out of her before she even laid a finger on me.

    To perform a karmic cleanse, one must apologize, forgive, and change. Or at least, that's what quick google search told me. Sorry, I don't personally know any witches. Karma's a witch thing, right? I have to get my rock and star knowledge from the internet like the rest of us regular folk. I glance down at my list of names. It's wrinkled, and streaked from the sweat of my palm. Cute.

Cole Pham, Vinnie Murphy, Ryan Goodwin, Matthew Goodwin, Quinton Zuckos, Aaron Remington, Bethany Mahelona

Seven names. I'm practically Ramona Flowers. With significantly less badass hair. Seven people that I have significantly wronged. Seven assholes that I most certainly don't want to apologize to, and even fewer that I'd willingly forgive.

Karma is not only a bitch, as they so often say, but she's also fucking stupid. How dare she think she's so much better than the rest of us? Who gave her the right to be judge, jury, and executioner? But Jenn's right-- I could use a little good karma, seeing as I've only been wracking up the bad kind for my entire life. If only to make me feel okay again. Maybe if I do this whole making amends debauchery, the universe will cut me a bit of slack. That's how it works, right?

Honestly, though, I'm starting to think that all of my self-hatred comes from being the terrible fucking person that I am, rather than what kind of people I want to sleep with. Maybe it's not karmic forgiveness that I'm looking for, but forgiveness from myself. Or some other bullshit like that.

After a long night of debating whether atonement is necessary, or completely idiotic, Monday comes creeping through my blinds, and I let out a peaceful, uncharacteristic, disney-princess-like yawn. Reality quickly spoils the peaceful moment, leaking in from depths of my consciousness like an overcast morning. I try desperately to quiet it, to have just a few more minutes where this is still just a beautiful fall sunrise, but quickly, the grim reminder of the last few days knocks the sunshine straight out of my blinking gaze. Yep. I'm totally a morning person.

I'm in a sort of trance as I roll out of bed, unable to recognize my individual limbs as they maneuver my body out from under the web I've weaved with sheets. All my muscles are tight from underuse, and my bones creak as I stand and stretch. I feel completely hollow, like one little push and I'd blow away into the wind. I always knew death would come for me early.

    After a moment to collect my thoughts, I finally creep downstairs, fighting off the yawn that threatens to stir my body from its slumber. Ugh. Wren is shuffling Carson out the door, the knit beanie making its first appearance of the season, concealing his neon orange hair with--wait for it--neon orange yarn. Carson notices me standing on the landing and waves cautiously, still on ban from talking to me. I give him a pinky wave back, and Wren tosses me a half-smile, all but shoving Carson out into the cold. The little guy always hated morning day-care. It was like school before school, a concept that I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemies. I guess I can't be wishing anything upon my worst enemies with this fucking karmic cleanse.

    "Good morning," I mumble to Jenn, whose hunched over a wedding magazine in the kitchen. I'd been so absorbed in my own life, I'd neglected to notice the frantic energy that had begun to develop between Jenn and Wren, the kind that only comes with a fresh engagement. The kind that encourages full-blown screaming matches over flowers, and periods of silence over seating arrangements. Ah, weddings, the pinnacle of true love.

    "That's pretty," I comment, pointing to a backless wedding dress that all but covered the page she was staring at.

    "I know," She murmurs wistfully, taking a long, indulgent pause before finally glancing up at me. "I didn't realize you were such a romantic," She winks, flipping the magazine closed. I put on the kettle, knowing well that I deserved a cup of joe before returning to the real world.