Maryland,
Chestertown,
The bus driver forces me to clean up my vomit at seven,
I throw a slight fit and cry while I do what is asked of me,
Home,
By the large field of sunflowers,
And my stupid neighbors,
Which I didn't care what they were like at the time,
I just smile and run over to my Dad,
At the other end of the driveway,
Mom’s in Delaware,
Working at the truck stop,
My Dad picks me up,
At least that’s what my memory says,
But words are deceiving,
Just as my Dad’s fake happiness,
Clueless,
That I was,
To what I conclude started my terrible life.
Divorce,
Age eight,
My Dad jokes and says as I’m about to go with Mom inside the car,
“Grab your DS and come with me.”,
I got excited,
I was always Daddy’s girl,
And I don't care how much he teased me,
With those simple words,
And then told me,
“I was joking, now go to your mother.”,
Heartbreak,
Yet that was my Dad,
The depressed jokester,
And I walked back to Mom’s car,
A red Chevy Blazer,
With utter disappointment.
We’re way past three in the morning,
Which was when we started packing to leave,
To this day,
Now that I know what foreclosure was,
I’d much rather deal with that.
Age nine,
Living in the basement with my Mom, sister, and me in my Aunt Lou’s house,
Uncle Bobby,
A beer-aholic,
His stomach defines his love for such beverages,
Other than me seeing him with one,
I always would sneak ice cream or something to eat,
And now that I realize it,
It was to mellow the pain.
Age ten,
I move a town over,
From Tolland,
To Vernon,
Honestly I think it was a terrible choice,
But,
It was cheap rent,
A thousand dollars and the water bill is paid by the landlord.
Northeast school,
I could name the one person whom leaves me for the stupidest reason,
But,
It’s too soon for that,
Good friends,
At least I thought,
I manage to meet a family member of a family my Mom hates,
She’s so nice,
My Mom tried to keep me away,
And yet I didn’t listen,
Fifth grade,
I should’ve done better.
Middle school,
First year,
Why am I so tolerable to these people?,
Mrs.Green says I sounded cute,
When I said oz instead of ounce,
I slump back into my seat,
If I was cute and knew it,
I’d be a narcissist by now.
Second year,
Don’t really care,
I guess,
Since I don’t remember anything.
Third year,
Mr.Sav,
I became lazier and lazier,
I had a friend,
More like an acquaintance,
She probably disliked me anyways,
But yet she told me,
“I’m three months pregnant and need to get an abortion.”,
So I listen,
Because I’m always there,
I don’t wanna be like the rest,
Someone needs somebody,
All I’m thinking,
Though,
Is that “You shouldn’t have done it anyways, if you’re going to be this worried.”,
She’s crying,
And I’m comforting her,
Maybe I see something in her,
That I can relate to,
My despair,
Disappointment in oneself.
Highschool,
My elementary school friend begins to start shit for no reason,
It’s a stupid way to just get into trouble,
The video,
Horsing around and yet you did,
You posted it on social media,
Where I got punched,
And you got a good laugh at the sound of it when showing everyone else,
But you lost some friends,
Serves you right bitch,
Because,
What kind of common sense is that?,
This freshman year I met many out of towners,
But yet I’m bound to lose at least one.
Sophomore year,
Ms.Matyseck’s class was hilarious,
But my Ag friend and I,
Hated those sexist pigs in our class,
But of course,
They’re athletes.
That same friend which we bitched about things together is now saying,
“I can’t be around you.”,
“I had this vision that you were going to get worse.”,
No longer friends,
Well two stupid shits that got rid of me for the shittiest reasons,
I no longer understand,
There’s no compassion with my friends anymore,
I no longer understand,
I sit there crying at the lunch table,
Becoming worse because of this,
Just like you said.
Junior year,
It’s the start of another fuckfest,
My depression is lingering inside my long-sleeves,
Not cutting,
But tempted,
She still won’t talk to me,
That Aggie,
I don’t get the concepts of humanity.
Depression,
Ah,
What a wonderful dunk into the bloody water,
Consisting of shattered glass,
From pure to sufferable.
©katie
K