everywhere i go

17

I will never know everything. Are you the best friends I've ever had or are you friends I've had? Do I know you, even, anymore? Apart from your removal from and hatred of me. I wonder if it had to end this way, or take this turn at least...

I want to hold us all under a black light and see the stains. I want to see all the hidden, truthful things. I want to know what it is you hate about me. Why do you hate me? What did I do, other than all I've done? No, I am no saint or angel, but I do my good deeds. I listen and engage, I make jokes and lighten moods. I cry, I am not closed, you've all seen me cry. I'm mean, but you are mean. You could have killed me. You were so concerned with the dying girl, you almost killed me.

In December, I sat in this chair and cried and cried, trying to write through what was wrong with me, trying to find the truth of why you hate me, what do you hate about me? Because I must have deserved it. Why did I deserve it, what did I do to deserve it? I'm over it but maybe I shouldn't have just gotten up and over it. Maybe I shouldn't have been so big. You never apologized. You never said you were sorry, you were never sorry. You could have killed me, you weren't even sorry. I'm so tired of this. I don't need friends, I'll never have any again. I said I could rely on myself, I rely on myself. I carried myself through. I cried and came out alive.

You almost killed me. I've got this bottle of turpentine that stays cold all year round. In December I walked on the beach, I thought I would never feel good again. At Christmas time you were so concerned with the dying girl, I went to see her and wrote her a letter about Jacob from the Bible. I wish I remembered what it said, I wrote it to myself. I don't think she read it, if she did, she never said. I'm tired. When I breathe, I feel like myself. When I hold my chest, my heart beats. You almost killed me. Don't worry - I took care of it.