the strangest thing is, i meant it the night i said i wanted to watch psych with you. i did. i thought maybe i could just -- but. the thing is, the truth is, you are overinvested in what i think of you. i admit it: i've been a bitch. but the thing is, i knew i was doing it. i acknowledge it. i embrace it.

but if you tell me one more time that i don't get to blame you, i can promise that the next time we meet, i will hurt you.

there's another girl on the other bed in our room. did you know that? she's nice enough, but she's not you. her name is on our door, next to mine. yours got torn down after you didn't show up. not by me.

i understand that you miss me. i miss you in ways you will never know. i miss you in ways that only you could possibly get, but you know what? missing you gets me nowhere. i'm not going to hope and wish and pray for you to show up anymore. wendy grew up. she's on her own, in fucking college, failing tests and talking to strangers.

i'm sorry that i can't find words to give you. but i'm not going to just up and start chatting with you again. i'm not going to treat the hurt you put me through that lightly. i deserve better than that, and i think our friendship deserves better than that. i'm not going to ignore this. (remember the last time we ignored something, and -- yes, you do.)

when i find the words to give you, i will. stop pushing me. i'm right here, i'm not gone. i just can't speak.

(ps: i am very proud of you. but my bitterness isn't going to let me tell you that.)

don't you fucking dare blame me. i will not stand that. you think you're -- do you know what it's like to be in a room with your name on the door, a bed with a blanket tossed over it to cover the blank white you've left me with? do you know what it's like to sit in a floor meeting with your back against the wall, left to be the last link in a chain of girls you've never met?

don't you fucking DARE try to guilt me. i fucking did everything i could, and if i want to blame you, if i want to be mad at you, that's my fucking right. i miss the hell out of you, but i'm more mad at you right now, and i'm not going to get over my anger just because i miss you. i'm sorry you're messed up, but you know what? i did everything i could to keep us together. i did everything i could to help you.

(just today, sitting outside a building in the heat after visiting a museum, i thought -- we could be here together, worried about our geology class. and then, but no.)

what the fuck do you want? you want me to pretend i don't care that i won't hear you complaining about how cold i keep my room? do you want me to act like you didn't leave me to do this all by myself, alone in a city full of people i don't know? i'm not that good at acting, and i won't do it.

i'm sorry you're sad and sick and upset, but i am too. and right now, i can't need you. because i don't have you. i've got to do it all by myself, and that's the fucking truth.

i am not the one who left. you are. if you try to do this to me again, i won't even give you this. don't you dare try to rob me of my only outlet of fear and anger and worry. this is all you've left me with and i get to keep it. i get to decide when i want to deal with you again.

the thing is, it's not that i don't care -- it's that you seem fixated on it, and i don't want to be. everything you seem to say nowadays is i-want-the-past-let's-stay-there when honestly, i am finally finding my future a bright and fresh thing to look forward to. i don't want to be held back. i want to stand tall and step forward and drink it all in. for once in my life, i am honestly fine with how everything is going. i feel happy. you can always talk to me, but don't expect me to agree with you all the time. me saying something shouldn't make you run to your journal and complain; honestly, i didn't mean it to hurt you. i am just tired of looking over my shoulder and wishing. i like the view in front of me just fine.

don't. don't pretend you know what i want or would miss. our last moments with each other will not be that night, and if you think for a second that a single night will change anything then you are wrong. that night will change nothing for me. i'm tired of feeling guilty for not falling into place. you want something to remember? i cried today; they pushed me to tears today, and if you'd been there you probably would've been right there with them. i never wanted to be a princess. i've never felt beautiful, but i doubt being among people who are is going to help. this is going nowhere fast. i've already said i'm done. i'll pay my money for the ticket i didn't ask for, but i'm done. i feel as though i would've given it more thought if this hadn't come so far.

i have not thought lightly about this; this is my decision, and honestly, you have no right to make me feel bad about it. if i regret it later on, i can look back with all honesty and say, i chose that. it's my fault. but it's never been a memory i wanted. i like the subtle; i like moments, not glamour, or flashing lights, or people i don't know. i like laughing with someone in the car with the windows down, blasting music and singing along, holding fake cigarettes to our lips and shocking the elderly drivers around us. dresses and makeup and pomp and pressure and i don't need another excuse to be less than i am. that's not me, and i don't want it. this is the last time i'm addressing it, and i'm sorry that it doesn't fit into your plans for memories, but i always sort of thought memories made themselves. not the other way around.

what the fuck. did you think i was going to be all "LOL YEAH"? idk if you like him, but don't expect me to be giddy and joking around when you blatantly insult him. if it's not a big fucking deal to you, don't make it one by making some post about it like i'm going to feel silly about it. i care about him and if you don't, then just don't say anything. maybe if you wanted my attention, you could fucking grow up a little first. and maybe i'd rather have gone to school anyway, where i could have lunch with the guys and laugh over nothing.

ofcoursei'mupset. of course i'm mad, because i want you to be happy. do you realize that if i could change my mind, i still wouldn't? because of that, i'm angry at myself and at you. i know you can't change any more than i can, but our friendship is the best thing i've ever had, and i've just ruined any chances of it staying the same. before, before it was all hints and guesses and gentle nudges but now it's out there. yes, on monday we will ignore it. but you won't. you will remember and i will know you are remembering. i remember when, i remember, i remember when i lost my mind. i wish you hadn't ever liked me. you'd be safe, then. (that makes my heartbreak total three. if i had knife i'd notch it in my bedpost). i can only hope you'll come to your senses and get over this whole thing. i'm not worth any regret you may have; do you see? i'd much rather be your friend. i want to go to college and laugh with you and grow up emailing each other pieces of work and meet together sometimes as we grow older. i want stupid double dates and going to concerts and sharing music. if we went out, do you see, all of this would be impossible? we can't pretend that it would be true love. and untrue love, it only lasts long enough to ruin everything. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry.

"her mouths moves: liar i'm a liar never will who never will i'm a liar who never will. i know, baby doll. i know." waiting and missing and hoping? haven't i been telling you this whole time? haven't i made things clear from the start? you want clarity? okay. yes, i like girls. i find them attractive beyond simple admiration. but i will never date a girl, and it's not where we are, it's not who we are. it's because i'm simply more attracted to boys. it's because i think more of you than someone i'd date a few months and then never speak to again. it's because i've pressed it onto you so many times: i am not someone to want. maybe i gave you the wrong ideas, but the alternative of clarity at the time, the one i was trying to avoid, was hurting you. now you've dragged it all out - and now i have to. this is what you wanted: don't be upset at me for not following your plans. you can't make me change my mind. i'm sorry that you're hurt. you wanted my answer, and this is it. don't wait for me. (and how are we supposed to make this work now? it's out of the computer and into my fucking phone, damn it. i can see it, and it's out there and you did that to us and how can i see you on monday? i've been, i've been trying to keep this from happening, placating you and hoping you'd just stop trying because i'm not worth ruining our friendship but now, now i can't see our future at all.)

"how cruel" said the man holding an umbrella over the girl as she sat at her desk and blink-blink-blinked at nothing in particular, "how cruel that you are so meek and afraid and cautious when your role was to be played by someone with courage and heart" and the girl laughed a lack-adasical laugh and hunched over herself and wondered how could you do that to me how could you put me on the spot like that when i never, i never told you to wait and i thought we were okay and i hate to to to to even think this but i could never, we could never ever make it and the girl pecked away at her heart with nails painted with liquor and threw a phone across her room and chewed the lower lip right off her mouth and found her phone again and and said to the umbrella held over her head "You have no right to say these things to me."

so how do i respond? objectively subjectively confusedly nervously hurriedly. if it was me? if it was my virginity, if it was something i treasured and wanted to remember fondly? no. no matter who it was, no matter how i felt about them, that sort of thing, something you've never done with anyone, much less with a girl, in front of someone? that can only end badly. that can only end in someone being hurt. if you want to get it over with, fine. go ahead. but throwing it away is something that you can only do one. fucking. time. choose wisely. either way, it's nothing you should choose with me in mind. it's not mine to give.

"Chess" by Rosario Castellanos

Because we were friends and sometimes loved each other,
perhaps to add one more tie
to the many that already bound us,
we decided to play games of the mind.

We set up a board between us:
equally divided into pieces, values,
and possible moves.
We learned the rules, we swore to respect them,
and the match began.

We've been sitting here for centuries, meditating
ferociously
how to deal the one last blow that will finally
annihilate the other one forever.

she held the world upon a string but she didn't ever hold me. spun the stars on her fingernails but it never made her happy, cause she couldn't ever have me. she said she won the world at a carnival but she could never win me, cause she couldn't ever catch me. i - i know why; because when i look in her eyes, i just see the sky. when i look in her eyes, well i just see the sky. i don't love you, i'm just passing the time. you could love me if i knew how to lie, but who could love me? i am out of my mind, throwing a line out to sea to see if i can catch a dream. the sun was always in her eyes, she didn't even see me, but that girl had so much love she'd wanna kiss you all the time. yeah she'd wanna kiss you all the time. she said she won the world at a carnival, but i'm sure i didn't ruin her. i just made her more interesting. yeah i'm sure i didn't ruin her, i just made her more interesting.

there is a chance that perhaps the sun isn't what attracts us at all. maybe it is the sky around it. "i wanna i wanna i wanna." there is a chance that perhaps i have my own thoughts.

he's singing the children to sleep with soft songs of simple spun half-truths and full(of)lies. he's drawing his smile on in the mirror with a permanent marker because it's the only thing that sticks when the day drags on, neverending circles of people and people and people and people. he's holding his hand up to the sun to check and make sure his blood is flowing through see-through skin and veins and bones. he's trying to cure the world with his words and he's failing. he's slipping in the shower, fingers tracing over mouths tracing over words i traced on the door. he's pressing his hands to my smile and wishing it were his own. (i wish it were his own, too. it looks all wrong on me, off-center. it's a liar, methinks.) he's whispering to me, "i remember when, i remember, i remember when i lost my mind." he's wrapped up inside my head and he's untouchable to anyone but Me. he's completely mine, and he believes (in) me, even when there's no way he can hear the thoughts i send his way. i can always hum along.

i catch myself in the mirror, cradled in my silver palm as the light refracts off of everything that is wrong with the image. my mouth is little more than a few flecks of dry skin over raw tissue. i keep chewing it apart before it can talk back to me. i had the best intentions, but that's just an excuse. there's all this noise in the background, the shower running. my hands catch on soggy towels and the veins that run along my wrist. the water on the floor is colder than the air. the mirror show me the real me. the awful truth. the creature whose vain eyesight can't extend more than three feet in any direction. just enough to glare at the blown out lightbulbs over my head. my life is a sylvia plath poem.

perhaps there are little dips in my mind; little mounds i make into molehills. there's -- there's this little tune in my head, a ditty if you will. it's in your key. i know there are a thousand things i could say, but the only thing that comes to mind is "welcomeback." i don't even know anymore, the words? they've slipped away. i have a lot on my mind, but it's intangible. words are uselss when it comes to abstraction. we can say a picture is worth a thousand words, but a thousand words can't describe one of my thoughts. this one seems to know it well: "too many barriers." it's a little funny. it's a little hilarious. i'm a little hysterical, but it's passing.

there's a girl in the garden: she talks to the trees and birds and dead bits of grass stuck to the bottom of her shoe. her mouth is painted an off-red, not quite there but not quite not. "liar," she says, "liar liar liar liar." she keeps forgetting to put the "i'm a" in front. dyslexic in that kind of white-lie way. she's pirouetting around the bushes and roses and muttering, "never will, never will, never will never will never will." who? i take aim at her with my eyes, shoot off the siren red dress and the moonlight teeth. i rip out all her dark strands of hair and let them fall to the ground like ridiculously thin pine needles. i let her fall to her knees in this garden and listen to her tell me a story without sound, and i nod along until she forgets what she is doing and lets me take her away. her mouths moves: liar i'm a liar never will who never will i'm a liar who never will. i know, baby doll. i know.

oh. i. i am uncomfortably angry. i'm sorry, but. i. i i i i i i i i have no words for the fury that's boiling in my throat. not you, never at you, but. how . dare . she . i want to slice open my skin and let it out, word by word. the accusation means nothing. it's true. but the fact that she talks about me at all, that she obviously does not think kindly of me at all, that she would rather i had nothing to do with you, that settles deep into my stomach and itches like a scab. i would peel it away, but i feel like there's an infection festering below it and that's the wrong way to go. i'll bleed out. i'll choke on it. i'll never look at her the same way. (it's just. ithoughtshelikedme, and ithurtsthatimwrongagain. two things that are the summary of my life, i suppose. these tears don't even feel real. i cried harder over a storybookdeath. it doesn't matter. i'm moving on.) (and HER? ha. that's as likely as him, even if he stopped being a douche bag. i like her too much to love her, and hate her too much to like her. it's an interesting ride. but. when we meet again, i am going to grab your hand and i will not let go until she looks away. i am going to fucking make a statement.)

i'm not sure what that means. i'm looking in corners that exist on ceilings, i'm trying to remember all of the elements of font. i just can't see who that is. i want to know. i want to be able to know what you're saying, especially when you're afraid to let me know. it just means i should know more. i cannot find thissong, and it's driving me crazy. lullaby(e)s in my eyes and i should blink myself to sleep again.

"i will never believe in anything again. change will come." (but the truth is, right now, all i want are words. i sang to myself and scratched words onto glass with my fingernails, but they faded away in steam. the words were meaningless, anyway. they always are. with no ears, sounds are pointless, so we must thank ourselves for these things. we must pray to the birds and guitars and footsteps for their existance. we must accept that we are not infalliable. i have told myself to be aware, but me, i have no ears. i refuse to press pause though i know there are things that must be done(lifetolive) and these things haunt me in the form of my fan shade. do you see? do you? the tiles shouted back at me, MISS YOU MISS YOU YOU YOU you. i whispered them so i couldn't hear it. they were meaningless, anyway. all i want is a night where i don't laugh at nothing. it is so strange to be held suspended in time while being aware that you are moving. every day is the same. i have forgotten why i need to wake up. it appears this is one of those days; i have forgotten why, though. my voice was so nice in my ear with water clogging up the pores. ah. life is so muffled, these days. i don't know how to make it clear, again. i want to help, but i am afraid i need it more. "freckle freckle, what makes you so special?")