A red haired girl lied on a blue rimed trampoline with one of her friends. They where so different and at the same time so much a like. He was 2 years old then the red haired girl. The red haired girl and the blonde haired boy lied on the trampoline together. The stars where out and they burned brighter that anything they had ever seen. The red haired girl and blonde haired boy where alone. The blonde haired boy wrote something on his phone then slide it over to the red haired girl. The message read "Do you want to kiss me?" The red haired girl had always like the blonde haired boy but was to scared to tell him. The red haired girl replied with " I would but my dad is inside." She slide the phone back to the blonde haired boy. He looked at the message with disappointment. The red haired girl then got up and left the blonde haired boy with his thoughts. The red haired girl wished she could have played that differently. The blonde haired boy thought the red haired girl didn't like him. The red haired girl thought if she could play it different that she would have rolled over to the blonde haired boy and gave him her very first kiss.    

When I was fourteen, my family moved to Florida from Canada, toting my parents, four kids, our worldly possessions and a Dalmatian dog. They must have used a shoehorn to pack us all in one car. My legs soon became cramped resting on the dog’s back, mile after mile after mile. In Canada, dogs don’t have fleas but Lady soon accumulated entire colonies on our journey which bit every square inch of my legs.

We settled in Orlando before Disney World. At that time, it was a lovely little town of 40,000 people nestled in orange groves and lakes. I was still a tomboy with my hair cut in a ducktail and wearing white buck shoes, as was the custom for Canadian teenagers. I took a lot of ribbing from my new friends which encouraged me to grow my hair long and ditch my shoes. All the girls in Florida wore crinolines and said, “yes, ma’am” and “ya’ll. None of the girls participated in sports which was a big loss to me. They all surely did like boys, however. During the first party I went to, two boys asked me to go steady. I finally picked the one who was student class president and a very good artist.

He came from a humble background with chickens running around inside his house. His father drove a school bus and drank too much. But “Teddy” was going places, making excellent weekend money by painting signs on store windows. I stayed with him for a year before I put his ring under some car tires to be run over so that I could say I no longer had the ring and could not be his steady any more. I am sure he saw through my subterfuge. I am embarrassed to admit that I was this unfeeling when he was such a decent guy. It’s funny how developing teenage minds work! Teddy ended up being an attorney and all his siblings did well in life in spite of his parents.

Thinking back, I wish I had not been so typical of this age and had kept Teddy for life. I saw him years later at a class reunion and sparks flew! He was a keeper! Instead, I went on to marry the wrong man whom I divorced. Perhaps it was all for the best, because I am happily married now. If had changed the course of my life, who knows how it would have turned out.

The 12 year old me

Saw it all:

Her soft and rosy cheeks

Turn pale-

As the moon.

Her eyelids

Closing gently

With her eyelashes

Of wings of swans.

Her melodious voice

Tremble!

A tear pursue

Her face, yet

Her serenity prevail.

All the strength

Abandoning her

Yet, her power being there.

But then nothing-

They order-

So I leave the room.

I leave her view.

Yet, craved to be

In mamma's arms

They said

To come next day

But too see her

I wouldn't know where

She was not

In her red roses' garden

Nor in that gloomy room

I was there.

But she was not.

Not there- Not anywhere.

------ Now in my recollections

I run fast

In that gloomy room,

And I damn

Push them all away.

I grab my beloved

Mamma's arms,

And tell her

I am there.

I wipe that tear,

I kiss those cheeks,

And make them 'rosy' again.

I place my head

To her humble heart;

Make it stay awake

I speak all words

Of bravery

To give her

Strength again.

And if these

Actions fail me,

I tell her about

These days-

How I abhor

This solitude

(I often feel alone)

That after all

The years went by

Life had failed

To give

Her home.

He leaned into my personal space that day, with all his charm and subtle smile. He felt the electricity too, passing briefly through our veins. It was accidental. He wasn't sure what to do. So he stayed there for a second or two. His hair is a mess from playing basketball with his friends, dripping acid on my soul. It beats any kind of cologne. Despite the little time that he had everyday, he still made time to catch a moment with me. He talks to me. Laughs with me. And makes me feel great. He was all the toxic sweetness it takes for me to fall in love again. All the future imaginings with him plays in front of me like hallucinations. Spring time. That pure and naive kind of love. That is what he would give me. It did not at that time occur to me how he would break my precious heart. I was blind and I wanted to be. He was the one drug that could give me beautiful dreams. And never would I have thought that these dreams contain nightmares that would haunt me long after he's gone.

Oh, no. Not again. So instead of drinking him in that day, I stood up and left the room, telling myself, that I'd saved my heart today.

It was a long drive, three hours. I stayed calm the whole time. Wet hair, grey sweatshirt, shorts in December, blue crocs. It was a Thursday, December 10. We pulled up, to a tan house with a nice porch. That's when I broke. I couldn't do it, couldn't leave everything. But I stepped inside, some people introduced themselves, but I don't hear a word. My sister asked for a tour, out or curiosity and distractions. She was missing school for me, to come say goodbye. That's when I met you all, my sister whispered in my ear about your bun, how I needed to step up my game. Then I saw a boy in s hairnet, little did I know that the crazy kid would become my twin. I wish I talked to you then. That I hadn't been crying so hard that a random stranger, soon one of my great friends, have me a hug. But instead I went upstairs, saw were I would be sleeping, that's when I threw my shoe and ran out crying, the alarm sounding as I opened the door. That night I talked to the girl who came today as well. She asked me about when I ran out on the doctors, I told her how I hated them. Three years of nothing left me feeling hopeless. Looking back I wish I could have asked her, she had been there before. I wish I started writing right away, that I brought enough clothes, and accepted I was going to have to stay. Mostly I wish I had faith, in my family, in the words you said to me as we sat outside. I wish I believed you when you said "this is my family, yeah my parents are in different states l, but you guys my family and this is my home"

I looked down at my feet; I could not move them; it was if they were nailed to the ground. My chest was hurting so much as if a hundred pound bolder had fallen on me.

I wanted to cry and scream out at the same time, but my mouth seemed to be stitched shut like a mummies mouth; I was crying deep down inside but nothing would come out; it was if my tear ducts had all dried up like a dried up river bed that led to a dam.

Try as hard as I could I could not force these feelings to leave, they seemed to have a mind of there own. I thought if I could not win this then who would I become?; maybe a faceless face without a body of my own.

Finally the dissipation of this evil feeling started to leave so I moved swiftly to my room, closed the door and fell on my bed as if I still had that bolder stuck to my chest.

This is true depression, not sadness, and sometimes there is nothing you can do better than this. Just be thankful that it didn't consume you or turn you into a faceless face without a body of its own.

I am still here and feeling strong. I know this is not me, this is something that thinks it's me, but it is a chemical imbalance that can be defeated or controlled; like I said I am still here.

You told me you'd be home for dinner that you loved me.  This is when is topped trusting people.  I wish I hadn't been so noisy that I'd done the dishes more often.  I wish I was a better kid maybe then you would've stayed.  I guess I'm okay I never cried anyway.  I wish that when you left I cried and screamed I wish that I could go back and break something. I wish I could blame you for it all but in reality it was probably my fault.  Maybe I wasn't good enough.  I became numb when the one person I loved didn't come home from work.  When my own mother left me.  I just wish I could go back and do something behave better yell less be kinder I don't know anything to keep you around.  How can I survive without a mother I need you.  I wish I didn't call you those awful names but I'm glad I did.  I wish I wasn't a contradiction. I wish I could take back forgiving you.  I forgave you I forgave you I FORGAVE YOU.  You treated me like shit but I forgave you and you gave me nothing but panic attacks.

     I was bullied all through the seventh grade because I was the new kid. I was called some very bad names that were not true it was even a rumor that I had gotten pregnant over Christmas break I was able to laugh at that a little because what they did not know was that I had never slept with anyone and that I did not even have a boyfriend and one other fact was that I was a virgin but instead of just ignoring them like my mom always told me to I let the kids get into my head and let what all the kids were telling me bug me the kids were even telling me to kill myself and at one point I started to think about it and come up with ideas on how to kill myself. at one point I even tried to but did not get too far I ended up being too big of a scaredy cat to even do it. I even got bullied for not being able to kill myself .

     I never told an adult instead I would go to the bathroom every day at lunch and I would cry. I would sit there and I would cry every day for forty-five minutes one day my friend found me crying she wanted to tell an adult. To this day, I regret not telling anyone because it could have all be solved but now I have to deal with it myself I wish I would have told an adult because even if it did make things worse, at least, I would have had someone in my coner helping me fight that battle. Now everyone who bullied me is going to think that they can bully someone else because no one ever stopped them I should and could have stopped the bullies. 

I hear something shatter, followed by a large thud and for a second I don't move. But they're screaming and shouting and I'm terrified, so I do what I have to.

One call, 3 numbers.

One address, one request, the entire time I move slowly up the hall.

I see broken glass and blood on the floor.

I see my mom, huddled on the floor. Face puffy and bruised.

I'm not one to get angry, I'm the peaceful one, the diplomat, the pacifist. But just this once, I don't I've a flying fuck what is expected of me.

I see him move towards her out the corner of my eye and anger pools red hot in my stomach. I move in front of her and stare him down

Pour my anger into a glare, try to look as rabid as possible, even though he's over a hundred pounds heavier and a good foot taller than me

But that's my mom laying there and she needs me even if she'll never admit it

So I stand my my ground and I fight to keep the tears

The fear

Pain and betrayal from my face

God must be watching because there is a knock

Then the handle jiggles

Then the door opens

And suddenly my uncles are there

With police

For once not pointing fingers, making backstabbing comments or in general, being the insensitive bastards I know they are

For once our family's together

For once I can be a kid and my mom, my mom

For once I can cry while she pays me on the back whispering comfort in my ears while our world pieces itself back together

Keep a straight face,

No reactions allowed.

Calm,

Collected,

Quiet;

Create a new me.

I sit there and smile and stare

And I want to scream because

I am a writer.

And I was raised to argue,

But look at all those girls over there.

Petite,

Peculiar,

Pretty;

Promises to myself that I can change.

I can be that.

Probably.

And I walk down hallways

Ashamed because I opened my mouth,

Ashamed because I dared to be more than them.

And I'm still ashamed.

And I blend into these walls best I can

To hide away my voice and existence.

I blend in because I can feel

The presence of a girl who once sat behind me in a class.

She follows me and asks me why I spoke my mind.

No one else ever did.

Why did I.

I blend in because I can hear

The yells of a group of boys who once told me I was worthless.

With them I stayed quiet because I was sure that what they said was true.

Then I couldn't speak when the word got out.

I know what I want to say to them now.

And I swear to myself that one day I'll stop talking

Or I'll talk at the right moments,

And it'll be great.

And I swore to myself

That this poem would be shorter.