The House Under The Hill

Alone, I am nameless and fearless and faceless.
I see just my knees and two hands held in front of me,
mine for this lifetime, so kindly I'll treat them.
My blood pumps,
My lungs bellow,
So I will let them be.

Well Crap....

Those were a lot of years wasted.
If I had known that you actually would have rather been doing other things but just didn't want me to be upset, then I would have found somebody else.  I don't think you get this.... but I am not repulsive.  Actually, I have a lot of people who reach out to me.  I just knew that you didn't really have anybody else, and I liked you, so I chose you.
Believe it or not... my relationship with you is pretty much the only unhealthy one I've had.  It's driven me into the ground, trying to please you and get you to notice me in ways that I find out just make it worse.  Now you just see me in a way that nobody else does.
I'm not sure if it's you or them who sees an illusion...

I'm done with this.  I just want to be healthy and happy and satisfied for the first time in my life.  I hate caring so much about someone who really could care less at this point what I do.  I've been playing my cards wrong for too long.

So good-bye.  I'm going to try just being by myself for a while... physically by myself, rather than just mentally, like I always seem to be.  If you want me, please feel free to call.  I don't want to push you away.  I never want you to feel alone like I do.
 But so help me, if you do call, you better not be doing it just because you feel sorry for me.  It better not be because you want me to be happy.  I'm only going to if it will make you happy.  I refuse to be somebody you just play along with... no... that is an identity that I have never wanted for myself, even if I might have attained it.

Divine Nature

Every princess gets a fairytale...

Mine feels more like Greek mythology right now.

A Week of Lonesome

This here was a week of lonesome.
It was a week of mistakes,
a week of goals,
a week of frustrations,
a week of the most bitter tears,
and fond embraces I'll never forget.
This was one of those weeks where every day is a race,
a challenge where the end is completely out of view,
but apparently not out of reach. 
It was a week of growth,
of responsibility.
I fell down.
I tripped over thin air,
nothing to blame but my own clumsiness.
I am only realizing now that somewhere between all of the yelling,
all of the praying,
all the pleas,
the clenched fists,
the biting,
those laughs that sound more like sobs...
I got up.

It's been exactly one week.
One week that helped me to grow more than any other set of seven day's I've had the honor of experiencing.
I'm alive.
'm still kicking.
It'll be harder than that to get rid of me.

Pretty Ways

Even the most peaceful town was once a battleground...

I Am Free, but I Am Flawed

Seeing you yesterday helped me to realize something... yes.  You are absolutely fantastic and I love you more than anything.  Away from boys and school and stress, carefully avoiding serious or heavy topics, we managed to just... have fun.  Be free and excited in the simple company of one another.  It was very reassuring, to know that I wasn't completely crazy in the decision to make you so important in my life.

But somehow yesterday made me realize that the world isn't going to end once you leave.  You are fun and amazing and intelligent, but there are lots of other people with such traits.  I will have more time for other people like that.  You are going to grow up and go off and do amazing things... and I'm pretty sure you'll be eager to tell me all about it.  I'll have to make sure to actually do stuff so that I have cool stories to share, too. 

Knowing you has been.... more than a pleasure.

Now it's time that I repaid you just a little bit.  I need to let you go.  No, I don't mean completely cut all ties.  I can't help but feel a bit entitled to a skype call or a facebook chat every couple weeks or so.  I mean that I need to move on.

And I will.
You will, too.

Taking Out the Trash

If people could see me when I take out the trash... well, I would have even less dignity than I have now.

Imagine this for me.  It's rather dark outside, the streetlights emitting only a faint yellow glow on the rest of the world.  The white-noise of rain is heard, like shaking sprinkles of creepiness over a cupcake of doom.  Hesitantly, a door squeaks open.  This is only on the rare nights when someone else isn't convinced to do the work.  A hunched figure slowly emerges, peeking around the corner.  The whole scene is assessed carefully a time or two... or five.  One foot in front of the other.  It seems like it should be easy, but suddenly the whole world seems to be filled with murderers and rapists and feline predators, hiding behind corners and in the trees and in all nooks and crannies in existence.  The sloshing sound that comes with each footstep against the wet pavement sends a new shiver up her spine.  She arches her back, stands up on her toes, and holds her cursed load way out in front of her.
She rounds the corner, almost expecting to find someone waiting for her there.  It's surprising when she finds only darkness and precipitation.  Her steps and heart-rate quicken, almost in a race with each other.  The goal is so close... carefully she lifts up the lid.  A movie plays through her mind, about how there was a black hole secretly inserted in that one specific can by scientists hired by the government and it was just waiting for her to lift up that lid so it could suck her into its pit of terror and misery and crime and abuse and sadfaces.  No such pit exists.... not even the shock of a taunting gecko.
The way back is even worse in ways.  There is someone behind her... she can feel it.  Now they are closing in, getting ready to pounce and kill like a starving lioness.  Not her.  She has no intentions of being a zebra for that lioness to eat.  Her pace quickens into an awkward sprint, affected by the way she stays on her toes.  She holds her arms in close to protect them from any predators awaiting in the dark...

Bottom line, I look like a T-Rex chasing after a laser pointer.

A Secret Soap-Opera

The red water runs,
excuses are made,
the night screams with bitter silence,
and a demon or two is released.
Since when did self-discipline become so reckless?

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.

Happy Are We

"Coree, why do you have to be so awesome?"

He makes me smile.  He's the only person who gets to see me at my very worst, and yet still he loves me.  I guess that makes him my best friend.  I am one lucky kid.

I'm Scared.

To Those Concerned People,

"Things are going to be different after she's gone!"

"Are you going to be sad when she leaves?"

Yuuuuup.

 "You'll have to make new friends!"

No way....

Please stop asking me what I'm going to do without her.

You know what the answer is.

We all know it will be sad.

Can't I at least pretend things will be fine?

A White Flag of Sorts

Croak.  The night is overcome with the proud singing of frogs, the fiddling of crickets, and occasional screech of bats.  It is mere white noise to her.  She shifts awkwardly into a new position, her skin feeling more like the burning sun than layers of protection. 

Carefully, she casts her gaze to her left with the slight tilt of her head, her eyes glittering with guarded deception.  She is not alone.  On her right is comfort, sanctuary, and honesty.... so much honesty, that, in fact, things can get quite bitter.  This one is asleep.  On her left is someone unknown and unfamiliar to her.  She usually can't tell if she is the best of any friends, a bitter competitor, or even a sworn enemy.  She can recall many times when this girl was the only source of security available to her.  A breath.  She blinks as her senses start to take over.... the scent of her is not unlike that of her mother, in that it instantly spreads a blanket of peace over her shivering body, no matter what tense encounter they may have had.

"I'm sorry...." 

Once the words are out it feels like running naked through a field.  She is vulnerable.  She is exposed.  She is wrong.  Her frail muscles all clench up tight.  Suddenly a mental connection is made, linking things together and making a bit more sense out of the puzzle which is her often irrational mind.  She is terrified of the ocean, heights make her want to break into uncontrollable fits of sobbing, being shorter than everyone else secretly releases inner rage, compared to her often mules appear meek, tickling sets in the instinct of complete terror, and she can't stand being wrong.
Really it's vulnerability of any sort that nags and tortures her soul.
The one piece of the puzzle that she can't seem to make fit anywhere is why she still loves having her waffles cut for her and being pushed around in grocery carts shaped like space shuttles.

A surrender of two simple words turns in to a peace treaty of four hours of confession and conversation.  It's as if the two are finally speaking the same language for the first time...She lowers her guard.  Suddenly she isn't the only one who matters.  Her eyes are open...

She can't help but wonder how long it will last.

How easy is it to disrupt a pattern that's gone on for years?

Stay Here, Okay?

 I remember a couple times without you there.
I remember being very lonely and just.... lost.
Well.  Perhaps it was only a coincidence. 

But I can't tell if I'm talking about your physical or mental location.
I think both.
I just want you to want to be with me...
and once you do, have it STAY that way for more than a week or two.
I don't think I can take another minute of feeling like I annoy you,
I disgust you,
you don't like my hair,
you think my clothes look funny,
you think I'm fat,
you think I'm stupid.

Some people tell me I'm beautiful.
Maybe it's a foolish thing--believing them on occasion.
But I honestly wonder if you agree with them and just don't say it,
or if my fearful suspicions are accurate.

Tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll change it in an instant,
even if I do attempt to save face.
I think you know that.

"Bitterman, I don't want to be sad anymore.  I think tonight we'll throw a party..."

Escape.

Still Here

You say "but I'm still here, 

and that means that I love you, dear!"

Like No Other

I'm going to admit.  There is not a single person out there capable of making me mad like you do.

But then, I have to remind myself that there's not anyone out there capable of giving me absolute, limitless joy like you do, either. 

This is mainly a reminder to myself, but, I suppose you could stand to hear it, too.

I love you.

I Don't Mean to Intrude...

But, you know, I feel like if I'm allowed to press for information from anybody... it's you. 
Today I realized that you are scared of me.

Not in the traditional way.
You're scared of how my opinion of you could change.

In my head this was the sort of relationship where the tongue was tied down by nothing, being free to soar with whatever musings or secrets or thoughts or just... anything. 
That's what it is for me, at least.
But today I noticed that while you tell me lots of things... you conveniently leave out the bad parts.

Maybe you don't want to be a downer?
Maybe you forget them?
Maybe it's not on purpose at all.

Regardless, I think you're fantastic.  Though... you don't seem to believe me.

A Drop in the Ocean

Most nights I hardly sleep... don't take what you don't need from me.

Little Known Fact #2

I do love the color red, but I specifically and especially love red backpacks.  You might as well know that if you carry one, I've stared at it for an uncomfortably long about of time.  Probably more than once.

I Do Say,

You remind me of somebody I used to adore...

The Pink Bottle

A breath.

Her eyes are forced closed, a wave of sensory stimulation rushing through her by the intoxicating, peaceful scent of memories trapped in a small, squarish, pink bottle.

A knife.

The images of it flash through her head quickly.  Bathroom stalls.  Compasses.  Seminar.  All-nighters.  Jackets.  Hiding... always hiding.  She can feel the once constant ache inside of her chest.

A necklace.

The scenes change from darkness and extremities to ones of personal milestones.  She remembers what it was like to want so desperately to look pretty and normal... and have no idea how.  She sees that little silver necklace reminding her to be good hanging around her neck every single day.

An orange.

Such a simple organism, such an example of humility.  Cautious gazes locked, challenges issued, people staring, the whole world watching.  The taste of that hellish fruit still haunts her.

A curse.

Stupid.  Ungrateful.  Lazy.  Brat.  She flinches as the sound of slamming of doors and the crash of glass shivers up her spine.  She can still hear those nights... the words repeat over and over, chipping away bits of her wellness.

It only takes a blink to awaken her from her daydream into her own senses.  She continues rubbing the lotion into her skin, her eyes straying a few times to her reflection in the mirror in front of her.  Oh, how she'd love to believe that the person she's seeing is completely transformed from the girl with the pink lotion and the silver necklace.  That was a phase, she says.  I was so stupid back then, she laughs at herself.

Really she just learned how to cover that girl up.

Speaking a Dead Language

Oh I wonder, when did it all stop making sense?

She Falls.

But she falls short and the night explodes in laughter...

Dear 12 Year Old Coree,

I don't know exactly when this tragic transformation occurred, but, somewhere along the way... you learn how to lie.

You learn how to lie to impress,
to get out of trouble,
to lie well,
to lie badly for attention,
to lie about stupid things,
and... how to lie about important things.

If there is one thing I could change about us, it would be that.  Someday you'll realize that nothing is real.  You'll have friends because you lied about tragedies to get attention, you lied about skills to impress, embellished stories to amuse.... your whole life will be built off of lies.  You're going to have to face the facts that all you can do is wait for these people to move on without you so that you can try and be more honest with the next batch of loved ones.

Some of these people are ones you want to know and love forever and a day.
You'll dig yourself into a hole so deep that you can't even see the surface light anymore.
You're going to mess up your one and only chance with them, while they're completely oblivious that you did anything wrong with them.

It's a hard pill to swallow.

Please... just... be honest. 
You might be less interesting.
You might get grounded more often.
Your life might sound much less tragic.
But it will be real.