a day in the life.


cover letter.

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the December 14, 2011

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I hate revision. I honestly believe it’s my own work I hate revising. Perhaps, if I had an editor or if I were editing for someone else, this wouldn’t make me so annoyed and upset. It’s like I’m embarrassed to go back and read what I wrote. I wrote it a certain way for a reason, so now to change it seems preposterous to me. Preposterous was the word I chose as my favorite in one of the class exercises we had this semester. Overall, I think it was a beneficial class full of learning, reading, writing, exploring, and engaging. If I had to take it over, I absolutely would. And, I definitely appreciate how we were let out early from class. The length may be one of its only downfalls.
While revising my longer short story, “The Nonbeliever,” I was basically looking for grammatical errors above anything else. I wanted to make sure the diction choice, commas, and sentences were all chosen well and made perfect sense. With both stories, including “Father,” I wanted to make sure the main characters were well thought out and understood. Both of the men are the speakers in the stories so they need to be clear and descriptive. I want the reader to be able to feel the way the men feel and fully grasp the concepts of each piece. I purposely leave things out but it’s on purpose. As a reader myself, I like to have a little ambiguity here and there because stories are easy to get lost in. They are entertaining and exciting, so sometimes I like making pieces of it up myself. I can’t lie though, sometimes when other authors leave details out, I get so angry. But it’s about presentation and wanting the reader to want to continue reading the piece. So, some minute details are left so the reader has some room to play around with whatever they want to.
I want it to be clear in “The Nonbeliever” the boyfriend has snapped. He has literally gone off the dead end in the sense that murder was his only way out. He wanted to save some girl he thought he loved and the thought of having to have a family and spend his life with her made him physically and emotionally ill. As soon as she showed her sorrowful feelings towards his negativity, he became mentally ill. Though she has every intention of killing herself, he finished it and now he is in an institution speaking to psychiatrists. In “Father,” I want it to be clear a wife made the decision to leave her husband and their presumably teenage son runs away. The wife withdraws from her soon to be ex-husband and the son returns looking to rekindle the love their family once shared. But the mother is dead. That’s how I ended it on purpose because it’s more fun for the reader to use their imaginations and answer the unanswered questions themselves. When revising, I made a point of making the storylines clear and easily comprehendible. I also made any of the characters possibly relatable because that’s my favorite thing about fiction.
I love to read and I love to write. After taking a creative writing class, it’s easy to see one cannot write well if they are not well read. Throughout the semester, I enjoyed the reading selections immensely. In fact, I assumed I would not but I was very wrong. The creative nonfiction and fiction pieces we were assigned were my favorite. The poetry was good of course, but I am personally less interested in it than the other two genres mentioned. I thought my favorite genre to read would be fiction but it was the stories we read for creative nonfiction. Perhaps it was because elements of them were actually real, but both were very interesting to me. I enjoy darker stories and some were definitely dark. I have also learned revision is mandatory. I know the first draft of writing is never acceptable, but I like to pretend it is. I like to think the raw stuff is the best stuff even thought I know it’s not. As much as I hate revision, it’s actually an important aspect of creative writing.
All the assignments were enjoyable I believe. I had no problem reading what was assigned and keeping up the blog. I’m glad it was decided to keep the blog posts going throughout the semester, it made me much more comfortable to write it and have others read it at their own will. The last group of assignments was the only ones I had some trouble with. I think perhaps I am traditional in the sense of having poetry written down and being able to read it straight through because the author intended it that way. I like the fact one piece had music. However, I personally loved some of the phrases jumping out at me, so much I wrote a few down. But if I were playing some rock and roll instead of the music the author provided, I probably would have loved it so much more. As for the interactive ones, I’m unsure how I feel. I tend to lean more towards liking structure because it’s easier. I read things to understand them and if it’s all over the place, it’s harder to know what’s going on. But overall, the assigned work was enjoyable.
The exercises were sometimes difficult to be comfortable with, mainly the main two when we were in a circle and it was a group activity. At first, I was hesitant to participate in both of them. Now looking back, I realize that is silly. Both of the exercises turned out well and I was able to write quickly and I think, well enough. It was hard for me because knowing the next person would see what I wrote made me slightly uneasy. But in the end, they worked out quite well. I really enjoyed every time we had some free time to write. I do with there was perhaps some more of it. I would start potential pieces and never finish them. I hope one day I can. I still have a high school creative writing notebook filled with unfinished stories that I haven’t touched in years, so I hope the same doesn’t happen with these. I really hope I can continue working on each story I began because I would hate to see these ideas wasted. From this class, I’m taking away the fact I can write. I can actually write. I can write whatever I want, when I want, and show whomever. I can pretty much do whatever I want when I grow up. I refuse to call myself an adult now, I have Peter Pan syndrome, so when the time comes I have to be an adult, I can do whatever I want. I am also going to keep writing, no matter what. Sometimes I stop because of life and that’s not really fair to me or the potential pieces that can be born from the writing. Sometimes, life doesn’t get to stand in the way and win and the writing must commence. I’m going to take away from this class the fact writing is not scary, it’s art. It’s an expression of the author and one should be proud of the thing they’ve created. Writing lives forever.

Father. (short short story)

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the December 14, 2011

The dark house swallowed me whole as I made my way from room to room, breathing in the loneliness. I didn’t bother with the lights, knowing they would not take away the pain. I question how I got here, how this happened to me; where did I go wrong, what could I have done differently? Things like this are supposed to happen to other families- the ones that are missing parents or have serious issues like alcohol or drugs- not ours. My wife and I gave him everything he wanted. But then again, I gave her everything she wanted and she just filed for a divorce. But before she could leave, he physically abandoned us. So, she just emotionally abandoned me, as if I have no feelings of my own. Well I guess she assumed I didn’t, I never set goals or had any aspirations for myself. I went to work, made money, and provided for my family. I thought I was doing the right thing by being selfless, clearly I was wrong.
We ate breakfast at that dining room table together every morning. Now, I sit alone and quietly sip my coffee. The absence of laughter breaks my heart with each passing day. I pretend he will walk through the door and fall into my arms. He can unravel, breakdown, talk- he can tell me everything or he doesn’t have to say a word- he just needs to come home.
My wife won’t look at me as if I drove him away or forced him to leave. I never once blamed her but I should have. I take her meals to her now but besides that, I no longer stay in our once lively bedroom where love peeled off the walls along with the old wallpaper. What she does in there haunts me, why won’t she let me save her anymore? I want to at least protect her but she won’t let me, she’ll say I couldn’t protect him and he’s gone. I should just leave too. The guilt of not being able to support my family eats at me constantly. At work, I can’t function, believing I’m solely responsible for the life we lead now.
It was a Tuesday. I was preparing a meal for us, even though she altogether stopped eating, when I heard the lock on the door flip over. He stood in the doorway with tears in his eyes, bruises and dry blood on his face. He flew into my open arms, hard enough for me to stumble backwards and hit the counter. It was a beautiful pain. No words were spoken- nothing needed to be said. We sobbed into each other’s necks. The love was between us as it used to be when he was a small child, as if it had never went away. We made our way up the stairs, hand in hand, to my wife’s door. He went in first and instantly threw up on the dresser we purchased while vacationing as a family. When I thought the guilt vanished, it crept back like a thief in the night, stabbing me with every breath. But I felt something I thought had gone forever. Happiness. She was cold and blue. I’d never seen her look more beautiful.

The Nonbeliever. (finished and revised)

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the December 14, 2011

The girl I knew was a bitch filled with emptiness and regret. She rolled around in her mistakes and drowned in her problems, while constantly complaining of life’s cruel jokes. I’d never met anyone so full of hate. Sometimes I wanted to just punch her in the face. And the worst part of it all was there was no way to even begin to save her. She was alone and helpless. Usually, she didn’t even want to be saved; you could see it in her eyes. She firmly believed in lost causes.
I believed every word she said. Maybe that was my problem or maybe that was her solution, we’ll never really know now. That emptiness filled her and she never did overcome the darkness, but God knows she tried. I was shy and insecure when we met, but no one knew it. I pretended to be king of the school, granted I loved every second of it. But I still have trouble in the spotlight, she never did. I love people, friends or not, I just love them. I’m positive and I honestly try to see the good in everyone, until they give me a reason not to. She hated everyone and didn’t bother with the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t care. Even so, I tried to save her. Every day for years, I gave her everything I could and I thought I could be the one to actually pull her out of the black hole she sat in. Since 2006, the year we met, she was just lost. She and her “friends” would pretend she wasn’t that she chose to become miserable and messy, even lonely, though with that relationship past, she was never physically alone. I would watch her sit Indian style in the school desks and wonder why- just why she sat like that, why she seemed so distant and not present, why pain shined through her autumn eyes. Years after that first meeting, we somehow formed an unbreakable bond- the kind you see in movies. Two people intertwined, sewn together with the lightest of similarities, but with such opposing colors for we were so different. Later, it would me who used the scissor to cut us apart, but it was her who used the scissor to simply cut herself. Everyday she’d try to explain the sorrow she held deep inside her small self but it could never be understood. I brushed it off, accepting her black cloud would just hover us from time to time. I accepted her and all the blackness that followed.
The leaves turned orange when I broke her, but I swear I didn’t mean to. I tried to break us- only for her to find happiness alone. She broke me too. I’m guilty enough, so I’m not going to sit here and tell you that she was an angel; we all knew she was far from it. I don’t know what her problem was, but wherever a mistake could be made, you’d find her there making it. I loved her with every part of me and she broke that. I feel bad for her, she didn’t know she loved me back when she broke my heart, she didn’t know just what she was jeopardizing. Maybe if she had only known her own feelings, cared about her, she would have turned out differently. “Fine” and “alright” were the only emotional words she could be. But the day she realized she wanted to marry me and spend our lives together, she told me everything. Every wrong done to me and every regret that was chained to her. So I had to break us up, it wasn’t fair to myself. I know I did the right thing. But a lifetime of right things doesn’t make up for the only thing I couldn’t save. By the time snow covered our world, she was gone. It was like she slipped out of town overnight, silent and alone, though it did not feel that easy.
The green dress she wore lifeless did not look the same as when it was dancing and vibrant at senior prom, years before. That was the first moment I knew I could love her, and definitely sleep with her. God she was beautiful, the kind that was easy and natural. She hated having to get her hair and nails done, but did it anyway because she loved that dress. She said she owed the dress a good night and great photos. It was one of the best nights of my entire life; I was surrounded by my best friends and wonderful people. I’d give anything to have the moment back, just for a little while. I just need to hear the laughter and witness the promise of the futures we once thought we’d have.
Like I said before, she was the coldest bitch I knew. She was rude and selfish living in a world of solitude and anger. She was blunt and mean but she called it honesty. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her smile, but I can still play the half hearted smirk in my mind like an old movie reel. I honestly can’t tell you why we fell in love, the gods were not in our favor, and we were the epitome of opposite. But in the ocean at the beach, she emerged from the water and opened her eyes in front of my face and for the first time I felt like I was seeing clearly. Her eyes were a tint of green because the ocean’s perfect reflection. I was in my favorite place in the whole world and I realized I was with my favorite person. From that day on, our lives were never the same again, for better and for worse.
The first time we made love it was New Year’s Eve. Well technically it was the early morning of January 1st, 2010. It was neither of our first time but it felt like it was, like we were the only people in the world physically and emotionally made for each other. The passion and heat never left us, we molded into one soul. I remember my pounding heart beating against my chest harder with every kiss and the touch of her delicate, soft hands on my back. Before we slept together, it snowed outside. We went into the middle of the street and danced. Hand in hand, I twirled her around under the falling flakes dancing around us. I don’t even know if there was music playing, but that didn’t matter to us. All that mattered was being together, locking eyes, and breathing deep in between the happy kisses. The first time she cut herself while in our relationship I was in shock, which later turned to rage.
She never had any consideration for anyone but herself. Every time she slid a cold, metal, instrument across her milk white arms it killed me. It broke me the day I found her alone and bleeding, veins torn open in one short fit of sorrow and weakness. The blanket on her bed was green until she turned it deep red. The kind of red that looks brown and disgusting. That blanket will never be green again, not that it matters now. It’s just when I think about the love making and crying and cuddling and comforting that happened on that blanket, I become nostalgic. Why did she do this, she stole my life too when she took away her own. I have to be honest with you because the guilt has been eating away at me deep in the pit of my stomach. I knew she wanted to die. I knew more than anyone in the world that she couldn’t handle this life. She pleaded every single night to be killed and I fought her every single night to cut the shit, to just be okay. I never told anyone. I once mentioned it to my mom but I never told anyone else. I really thought I could handle her and our situation, never did I think it would actually come to the point where she would go through with it. See, this girl she complained and promised she’d do it, she threatened ending her own life because she was that fucked up. And look, now I’m the fucked up one and she’s dead because she’s selfish. She knew this what this would do to me and yet she left me all alone, miserable and guilty and alone. I have to suffer and live with the pain every day. Do you see what I mean? She was cold and stubborn living in her own narrow-minded world. I know, I’m ranting now. I’ll try to relax. It’s just so hard to talk about, let alone keep living. I loved her; I fell in love with her. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean I can just fall out of love.
It was a Tuesday and it happened right before we got into my car to drive home. For some reason I have this fight imprinted in my brain and I don’t even know why. It wasn’t our last fight ever but it was so moving and so terrible I can’t help but cry. I’m sorry. We were broken up at the time but I kissed her anyway, I couldn’t stop myself. And I know she didn’t want me to stop, she told me. We accidentally fell into a fight about another guy in her life and another girl in mine. God, it was so stupid thinking back on it now. I shouldn’t have run my mouth; I drove her to the point of no return. Before I knew it, we were screaming on a sidewalk and she was beating herself, physically punching herself in the head and holding her ears. She fell into fits when enough was enough and she couldn’t fight any longer. Because there was nothing to cut herself with, she used her fists. Sometimes I felt those tiny fists pound deep into my chest or arms and it hurt. It hurt more emotionally and mentally, knowing I drove her to this point and now it would be up to me to pull her out of the black hole she was spiraling into quickly. I held her tight against me and rocked her back and forth. It was all that could be done until the tears tired her out and my shirt was stained. These episodes were frequent in our relationship because she was crazy. I feel bad calling her that. I used to say it to her face and it would send her into angry and unapproachable moods. She used to joke around and say, “Never call a crazy person crazy.” At first I laughed at her because she was always saying weird stuff like that. But one day I realized she was right, she was crazy and she knew how she would react to it; I just didn’t listen.
My arm bleeds because I pick the scabs like she used to. I know it’ll scar and I don’t really mind, though I used to scream at her for doing it. I’m a hypocrite now. I’ve turned into everything I never wanted to be, everything I tried to save her from. I was never sad like her, burdened with the world and alone in the dark. Well, that’s a lie but I was so good at hiding it that sometimes I even forgot about my painful life. My drawn on smile was made from permanent ink and I chose to live that way, to hide the fear and sorrow because laughter is just a lot nicer to listen to. You can judge me all you want on how I chose to deal with my hardships. I don’t care; I did what made me happy. I just wanted her to be happy too. She was so smart; I don’t know why she would do this. Why not call me and tell me the feelings she was experiencing. She knew there were hotlines that can be contacted, she knew what to do. She just didn’t want to; she consciously chose to give up. Yes, I found her in her room, alone and still warm. She knew I was on my way over; she knew I was coming to see her and kiss her and love just as I had for years before.
Doesn’t the color of these walls make you upset? I mean, how boring can people get? They don’t soothe me at all and I definitely do not feel calm. In fact, I’m pissed off someone in the health care profession would assume these shades are helpful to the mind. I was once interested in dedicating my future to helping others and now look at me. How pathetic? I’ve turned into her; I’m the nonbeliever now. I heard the news. I’m not leaving here like they promised. They said I would only have to stay a few months but surprise, surprise-they lied. You’re new here, have we met before? How come you people never answer questions but I am forced to constantly speak. How will I ever get out of here if nobody helps me? See this bracelet, I bought us matching ones. I wanted to buy her one for her birthday and add the charms to it for every special moment we encountered together, but she refused to wear one if I wasn’t wearing one too. She seemed selfless that way. I know you seem shocked. She had her moments of selflessness, of pure good. I thought she was a completely different, better person sometimes, but I never told her that. She begged we get the matching best friend charms, this one here. She refused to let me go, didn’t want to accept the fact we wouldn’t be major parts of each other’s lives any longer. And I fed into it. I bought the charms and let her have the words as if they meant something. I never understood why the heart looked cracked. A broken heart, I think that’s why she liked it so much. It really symbolized our relationship. I could only buy her three charms before she left. I’m so angry she was buried in that bracelet. I know she loved it and whatever but maybe I would have liked to have it, I mean I did buy it for her. It meant a lot to me. Well, sure, I have a lot of her stuff obviously, but I wear my bracelet and feel a longing for her, to see her charms, and touch her face. How come I wasn’t buried with her? She loved me. I would’ve liked to go with them. She’s decaying now, her body. Her long hair grows more but the rest of her breaks down and dies just like she did.
I have a secret or two and for a long time the guilt went away. But now it’s back and it’s bothering me deeply. I was hoping perhaps we could discuss it. However, I need to set some ground rules. You can tell no one of anything said here. I know the confidentiality clauses and what not; remember I once sat where you sit now? I’ll sue you five times over if I ever find out this verbal contract was broken. I know you can’t technically agree because you don’t know what I’m going to say but I don’t care. As the patient, I will not open up unless I know for sure it is safe to do so. Fine. Whatever. Her parents never asked for an autopsy. And they never donated her organs like she wanted. If she knew she still had those organs, she would be pissed off. She wasn’t even dead when we called 911; I tried to keep her alive. For God’s sake, I was covered in her blood. Her organs could have been potentially viable but they never even considered it. They always did selfish things like that and never listened to her. That’s just the type of people they are I guess; not everyone can change.
That night, the reason I was on my way over was because she told me she was three months pregnant. We had only made love that one time since our relationship ended and of course that would happen to us. We would be burdened at the most inconvenient times of our lives. But for someone so pessimistic, she saw all the good in the situation. But I couldn’t. How could we have been so fucking stupid? I mean, we’re just a bunch of honors kids. I don’t make the wrong decision, I don’t do bad things. This is the kind of fucking up she would do, not me. I shouldn’t be punished too, even though it wasn’t really all her fault. I now see that both of us can be equally blamed. She saw this as a chance to be together, work on things; maybe even live a dream we once had. I saw it as a mistake, an expensive failure, and a reminder of the life I didn’t want anymore. I didn’t mean to be so harsh to her. I didn’t think she’d tell me over the phone but I forced her to. She begged me to come over because she wanted to wait until we were face to face, so we could deal with it together. But I had plans, friends to see. I never broke my plans for her and I wasn’t about to start then. So she blurted it out and I froze. I couldn’t breathe, I felt my life ending. So, when I was able to regain myself I might have flipped out. A little. Or a lot. Who’s to say now what was actually said. I’m lying. To your face, I’m lying. I know what I said and the words continuously haunt me. But I wish that was the only thing that follows me.
By the time I reached her, she was warm and bloody like I said. I sent her over the edge, again, and she took a knife to her dark veins. But she was alive. Crying and screaming at me, telling me to go home and we were done. She said she meant it this time; she never wanted to see me again. She said I wasn’t the man she thought I was, that she didn’t even recognize me anymore because I refused to accept this child and her into my life. When she said she hated me, I snapped. I threw her on the bed and smacked her in the face. Every single wrong she had ever done to me flashed before my red eyes and I couldn’t control myself. I turned into a monster and I am sorry. I took the knife and did what I had to do.
She was just a lost soul in lost youth. She didn’t want to be found, no matter how hard I tried. I did her a favor. She believed people could change. She told me she would. And she did. But somehow the perpetual sorrow would not stop following her. She didn’t believe in happiness or hope, love and weddings, never herself but always me. The only belief I ever witnessed was her will and accomplishment of change. And she always believed in us and the romantic love we could have. I didn’t believe she would turn into the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t believe she could ever be something other than the fuck up she was. I gave her chances but never ones that mattered, never the important moments she needed to prove to me she was different, and better. I used to wish she would just smile; she acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do. Now, I am the nonbeliever. I can no longer smile and I forgot how it feels to laugh. I killed an unborn relationship. I killed the small hope that was left inside us. I killed love. Now, I have to live with the consequences.

the nonbeliever. (the final section)

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the December 2, 2011

I heard the news. I’m not leaving here like they promised. They said I would only have to stay a few months but surprise, surprise-they lied. You’re new here, have we met before? How come you people never answer questions but I am forced to constantly speak. How will I ever get out of here if nobody helps me? See this bracelet, I bought us matching ones. I wanted to buy her one for her birthday and add the charms to it for every special moment we encountered together, but she refused to wear one if I wasn’t wearing one too, she was selfless that way. I know you seem shocked. She had her moments of selflessness, of pure good. I thought she was a completely different, better person sometimes, but I never told her that. She begged we get the matching best friend charms, this one here. She refused to let me go, didn’t want to accept the fact we wouldn’t be major parts of each other’s lives any longer. And I fed into it. I bought the charms and let her have the words as if they meant something. I never understood why the heart looked cracked. A broken heart, I think that’s why she liked it so much. It really symbolized our relationship. I could only buy her three charms before she left. I’m so angry she was buried in that bracelet. I know she loved it and whatever but maybe I would have liked to have it, I mean I did buy it for her. It meant a lot to me. Well, sure, I have a lot of her stuff obviously, but I wear my bracelet and feel a longing for her, to see her charms, and touch her face. How come I wasn’t buried with her? She loved me. I would’ve liked to go with them. She’s decaying now, her body. Her long hair grows more but the rest of her breaks down and dies just like she did.
I have a secret or two and for a long time it went away. But now it’s back and it’s bothering me deeply, I was hoping perhaps we could discuss it. However, I need to set some ground rules. You can tell no one of anything said here. I know the confidentiality clauses and what not; remember I sat where you sit now once? I’ll sue you five times over if I ever find out this verbal contract was broken. I know you can’t technically agree because you don’t know what I’m going to say but I don’t care. As the patient, I will not open up unless I know for sure it is safe to do so. Fine. Whatever. Her parents never asked for an autopsy. And they never donated her organs like she wanted. If she knew she still had those organs she would be pissed off. She wasn’t even dead when we called 911; I tried to keep her alive. For God’s sake, I was covered in her blood. Her organs could have been potentially viable but they never even considered it. They always did selfish things like that and never listened to her. That’s just the type of people they are I guess; not everyone can change.
That night, the reason I was on my way over in fact, was because she told me she was three months pregnant. We had only made love that one time since our relationship ended and of course that would happen to us. We would be burdened at the most inconvenient times of our lives. But for someone so pessimistic, she saw all the good in the situation. But I couldn’t. How could we have been so fucking stupid? I mean, we’re just a bunch of honors kids. I don’t make the wrong decision, I don’t do bad things. This is the kind of fucking up she would do, not me. I shouldn’t be punished too, even though it wasn’t really all her fault. I know see that both of us can be equally blamed. She saw this as a chance to be together, work on things; maybe even live a dream we once had. I saw it as a mistake, an expensive failure, and a reminder of the life I didn’t want anymore. I didn’t mean to be so harsh to her. I didn’t think she’d tell me over the phone but I forced her to. She begged me to come over because she wanted to wait until we were face to face, so we could deal with it together. But I had plans, friends to see. I never broke my plans for her and I wasn’t about to start then. So she blurted it out and I froze. I couldn’t breathe, I felt my life ending. So, when I was able to regain myself I might have flipped out. A little. Or a lot. Who’s to say now what was actually said. I’m lying. To your face, I’m lying. I know what I said and the words continuously haunt me. But I wish that was the only thing that follows me.
By the time I reached her, she was warm and bloody like I said. I sent her over the edge, again, and she took a knife to her dark veins. But she was alive. Crying and screaming at me, telling me to go home and we were done. She said she meant this time; she never wanted to see me again. She said I wasn’t the man she thought I was, that she didn’t even recognize me anymore because I refused to accept this child and her into my life. When she said she hated me, I snapped. I threw her on the bed and smacked her in the face. Every single wrong she had ever done to me flashed before my red eyes and I couldn’t control myself. I turned into a monster and I am sorry. I took the knife and did what I had to do.
She was just a lost soul in lost youth. She didn’t want to be found, no matter how hard I tried. I did her a favor. She believed people could change. She told me she would. And she did. But somehow the perpetual sorrow would not stop following her. She didn’t believe in happiness or hope, love and weddings, never herself but always me. The only belief I ever witnessed was her will and accomplishment of change. And, she always believed in us and the romantic love we could have. I didn’t believe she would turn into the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t believe she could ever be something other than the fuck up she was. I gave her chances but never ones that mattered, never the important moments she needed to prove to me she was different, and better. I used to wish she would just smile; she acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do. Now, I am the nonbeliever. I can no longer smile and I forgot how it feels to laugh. I killed an unborn relationship. I killed the small hope that was left inside us. I killed love. Now, I have to live with the consequences.

the nonbeliever. (cont)

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the November 20, 2011

..

She never had any consideration for anyone but herself. Every time she slid a cold, metal, instrument across her milk white arms it killed me. It broke me the day I found her alone and bleeding, veins torn open in one short fit of sorrow and weakness. The blanket on her bed was green until she turned it deep red. The kind of red that looks brown and disgusting. That blanket will never be green again, not that it matters now. It’s just when I think about the love making and crying and cuddling and comforting that happened on that blanket I become nostalgic. Why did she do this, she stole my life too when she took away her own. I have to be honest with you because the guilt has been eating away at me deep in the pit of my stomach. I knew she wanted to die. I knew more than anyone in the world that she couldn’t handle this life. She pleaded every single night to be killed and I fought her every single night to cut the shit, to just be okay. I never told anyone. I once mentioned it to my mom but I never told anyone else. I really thought I could handle her and our situation, never did I think it would actually come to the point where she would go through with it. See, this girl she complained and promised she’d do it, she threatened ending her own life because she was that fucked up. And look, now I’m the fucked up one and she’s dead because she’s selfish. She knew this what this would do to me and yet she left me all alone, miserable and guilty and alone. I have to suffer and live with the pain every day. Do you see what I mean? She was cold and stubborn living in her own narrow-minded world. I know, I’m ranting now. I’ll try to relax. It’s just so hard to talk about, let alone keep living. I loved her; I fell in love with her. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean I can just fall out of love.
It was a Tuesday and it happened right before we got into my car to drive home. For some reason I have this fight imprinted in my brain and I don’t even know why. It wasn’t our last fight ever but it was so moving and so terrible I can’t help but cry. I’m sorry. We were broken up at the time but I kissed her anyway, I couldn’t stop myself. And I know she didn’t want me to stop, she told me. We accidentally fell into a fight about another guy in her life and another girl in mine. God, it was so stupid thinking back on it now. I shouldn’t have run my mouth; I drove her to the point of no return. Before I knew it we were screaming on a sidewalk and she was beating herself, physically punching herself in the head and holding her ears. She fell into fits when enough was enough and she couldn’t fight any longer. Because there was nothing to cut herself with, she used her fists. Sometimes I felt those tiny fists pound deep into my chest or arms and it hurt. It hurt more emotionally and mentally, knowing I drove her to this point and now it would be up to me to pull her out of the black hole she was spiraling into fast. I held her tight against me and rocked her back and forth, it was all that could be done until the tears tired her out and my shirt was stained. These episodes were frequent in our relationship because she was crazy. I feel bad calling her that. I used to say it to her face and it would send her into angry and unapproachable moods. She used to joke around and say, “Never call a crazy person crazy.” At first I laughed at her because she was always saying weird stuff like that. But one day I realized she was right, she was crazy and she knew how she would react to it; I just didn’t listen.
My arm bleeds because I pick the scabs like she used to. I know it’ll scar and I don’t really mind, though I used to scream at her for doing it. I’m a hypocrite now. I’ve turned into everything I never wanted to be, everything I tried to save her from. I was never sad like her, burdened with the world and alone in the dark. Well, that’s a lie but I was so good at hiding it that sometimes I even forgot about my painful life. My drawn on smile was made from permanent ink and I chose to live that way, to hide the fear and sorrow because laughter is just a lot nicer to listen to. You can judge me all you want on how I chose to deal with my hardships, I don’t care, and I did what made me happy. I just wanted her to be happy too. She was so smart; I don’t know why she would do this. Why not call me and tell me the feelings she was experiencing. She knew there were hotlines that can be contacted, she knew what to do. She just didn’t want to; she consciously chose to give up. Yes, I found her in her room, alone and still warm. She knew I was on my way over; she knew I was coming to see her and kiss her and love just as I had for years before.
Doesn’t the color of these walls make you upset? I mean how boring can people get? They don’t soothe me at all and I definitely do not feel calm. In fact I’m pissed off someone in the health care profession would assume these shades are helpful to the mind. I was once interested in dedicating my future to helping others and now look at me. How pathetic? I’ve turned into her; I’m the nonbeliever now.

the nonbeliever. (cont)

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the November 13, 2011

As I said, she was the coldest bitch I knew. She was rude and selfish living in a world of solitude and anger. She was blunt and mean but she called it honesty. It was a long time before I saw her smile, but I can still play the half hearted smirk in my mind like an old movie reel. I honestly can’t tell you why we fell in love, the gods were not in our favor, and we were the epitome of opposite. But in the ocean at the beach, she emerged from the water and opened her eyes in front of my face and for the first time I felt I was seeing clearly. Her eyes were a tint of green because the ocean’s perfect reflection. I was in my favorite place in the whole world and I realized I was with my favorite person. From that day on, our lives were never the same again, for better and for worse.
The first time we made love it was New Year’s Eve. Well technically it was the early morning of January 1st, 2010. It was neither of our first time but it felt like it was, like we were the only people in the world physically and emotionally made for each other. The passion and heat never left us, we molded into one soul. I remember my pounding heart beating against my chest harder with every kiss and the touch of her delicate, soft hands on my back. Before we slept together, it snowed outside. We went into the middle of the street and danced. Hand in hand, I twirled her around under the falling flakes dancing around us. I don’t even know if there was music playing, but that didn’t matter to us. All that mattered was being together, locking eyes, and breathing deep in between the happy kisses. The first time she cut herself while in our relationship I was in shock, which turned to rage.

the nonbeliever.

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the November 4, 2011

The girl I knew was a bitch filled with emptiness and regret. She rolled around in her mistakes and drowned in her problems while constantly complaining of life’s cruel jokes. I’d never met anyone so full of hate, sometimes I wanted to just punch her in the face. And the worst part of it all was there was no way to even begin to save her. She was alone and helpless. She didn’t even want to be saved; you could see it in her eyes. She firmly believed in lost causes.
I believed every word she said. Maybe that was my problem or maybe that was her solution, we’ll never really know now. That emptiness filled her and she never did overcome the darkness, but God knows she tried. I was shy and insecure when we met, but no one knew it. I pretended to be king of the school, granted I loved every second of it. But I still have trouble in the spotlight, she never did. I love people, friends or not, I just love them. I’m positive and I honestly try to see the good in everyone, until they give me a reason not to. I tried to save her. Every day for years, I gave her everything I could and I thought I could be the one to actually pull her out of the black hole she sat in. Since 2006, the year we met, she was just lost. She and her “friends” would pretend she wasn’t that she chose to become miserable and messy, even lonely, though with that relationship past, she was never physically alone. I would watch her sit Indian style in the school desks and wonder why- just why she sat like that, why she seemed so distant and not present, why pain shined through her autumn eyes. Years after that first meeting, we somehow formed an unbreakable bond- the kind you see in movies. Two people intertwined, sewn together with the lightest of similarities, but with such opposing colors for we were so different. Later, it would me who used the scissor to cut us apart, but it was her who used the scissor to simply cut herself. Everyday she’d try to explain the sorrow she held deep inside her small self but it could never be understood. I brushed it off, accepting her black cloud would just hover us from time to time, and I accepted her and all the blackness that followed.
The leaves turned orange when I broke her, but I swear I didn’t mean to. I tried to break us- only for her to find happiness alone. She broke me too. I’m guilty enough, so I’m not going to sit here and tell you that she was an angel; we all knew she was far from it. I don’t know what her problem was, but wherever a mistake could be made, you’d find her there making it. I loved her with every part of me and she broke that. I feel bad for her, she didn’t know she loved me back when she broke my heart, she didn’t know just what she was jeopardizing. Maybe if she had only known her own feelings, cared about her. “Fine” and “alright” were the only emotional words she could be. But the day she realized she wanted to marry me and spend our lives together, she told me everything. Every wrong done to me and every regret that was chained to her. So I had to break us up, it wasn’t fair to myself. I know I did the right thing. But a lifetime of right things doesn’t make up for the only thing I couldn’t save. By the time snow covered our world, she was gone. It was like she slipped out of town overnight, silent and alone, though it did not feel that easy.
The green dress she wore lifeless did not look the same as when it was dancing and vibrant at senior prom, years before. That was the first moment I knew I could love her, and definitely sleep with her. God she was beautiful, the kind that was easy and natural. She hated having to get her hair and nails done, but did it anyway because she loved that dress. She said she owed the dress a good night and great photos. It was one of the best nights of my entire life; I was surrounded by my best friends and wonderful people. I’d give anything to have the moment back, just for a little while. I just need to hear the laughter and witness the promise of the futures we once thought we’d have.

poster on the wall.

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the October 27, 2011

four men. stare at her.
watch her, see her when
no one else can.
bruised. bleeding. broken.
they see her, in her darkest
hour. they judge her.
naked and alone.
piles of clothes everywhere.
beautiful and simple topography
stands in her way. she
alone must get herself to the
other side. the corner of
novels, short stories, poems from
legends. from her.
they shaped her, sculpted
her carefully into the person
she is today. a much better
person. she fell in love
and opened her heart
fully. he held on tight
and she couldn’t find her
way. she ruined it.
now she’s a new person.
four men watch a transformation.

darkness dances.

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the October 21, 2011

woods all around, fear consuming me.
darkness, the only thing in sight.
leaning on cold concrete, waiting.
there it is- the moon shines
through, sending some hope.
reading the stone, my name.
blood on my hands.
the hole they’ll place me in.
thought i was ready to go.
maybe they’ll let me stay,
a little while longer.
please.
wind whips through me now,
trees sway in anger
dancing around, judging.
tears crawl down my pale cheeks.
i’ve disappeared.

study < love

Posted in Uncategorized by erin on the October 13, 2011

i should be studying.
studying for a class i shouldnt need to take.
take music, im an english major.
major changes occurring in life.
life doesnt stop for anybody.
anybody can write a poem.
poems hold the wonder of it all.
all the stars still arent as bright as your smile.
smile and wink, i feel you in my soul.
soul mates. marry me?

i love love poems. to write them, to read them- anything about them. but im just not feeling it right now. so this is what i have.

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