bits and pieces to soak in.

April fools

“You’re all the same, you know.” Charlotte spoke quietly, but knowingly.

He lit a cigarette, looked her up and down, and leaned back on the headboard of her bed. He smiled and remained silent. It drove her insane. She didn’t know what to think, so she walked away. It was too early in the morning to deal with his relentless narcissism. Her coffee was smelling too fresh, too crisp. Her morning was too positive and productive to deal with his neverending selfishness which was unbearable in this winter. After the loss of her own sanity and the pain of losing it, she couldn’t babysit his ego anymore.

to intend for

when little macy woke up she had not a clue where she was, but she had a slight buzz. a tingle with magic and mingle. she knew it was her home though it did not look like reality, and she lived with a famous movie star.

but one day an old love came knocking on the door. she had already told him to forget her, leave her alone, pretend she existed - no more. however, he refused to accept that wish and continued to persist, so she let him in once more. her roommates did not share the sentiment, and he felt their resentment, so he told macy he did not like them. she brushed him off but needed his help when she tried to climb up to her room and the ledge broke.

so he stood underneath while she tried to fix the rickety wood level that she held on to with her elbow digging in. then all of a sudden the scene flashed back downstairs where they ended up alone. and he went to kiss her and she could not forget how his lips felt so she accepted. and as she accepted a close friend barged in - fate interrupted them again.

—

suddenly he was gone but she did not feel a difference this time. not emotionally, not physically. it was a simple truth. and while she prepared for her duties her frizzy hair (which magically turned bright orange!) was a nuisance which she attempted to braid away from her face. macy’s dear friend, she could see in the reflection, going through magazines and listening to music. getting ready for her own agenda. but all macy could think about was the cute boy waiting to see her that night. she was not sure if he was waiting but she liked to think.

—

switch again and this time she’s home, but it is not the home she knows. another kind of home. here her friends played and it was the next day when they gathered their things and got back on their wings. it was a love she knew but he was distant. but best friend was there and that made it okay.

they spent the day drained and wasted, in a daze of the high night before. it felt like the laze of summer she craved for again. a summer from a long time ago but with the added present bliss of age and bravery. she loved them all and she held them dear within her heart but she kept that part deep inside.

—

it ended with a bang of movie watching in and old basement-like room. cozy and somewhat dim with cheesy kitsch furniture covered in plaid. friends watching films and laughing and crying and macy held her crying friend close. the friend laughed and cried, “WHY?!” but no one knew.

all of a sudden they screeched her name shakily as a scorpion came down over her face from a web. she grabbed quick and held it tight when a tarantula appeared. she forced the scorpion to sting the tarantula so they both would leave her alone.

but see, he was the scorpion and she was the tarantula and macy turned them against each other. but when she woke up she gasped deep breaths and forced her eyes open. sitting up like fire she felt around her to make sure no creatures were crawling.

deep breaths and open eyes made her realize. but the feelings were still rather relevant.

vultures

as carla blew chunks into the toilet, i held her hair and rubbed her back. “why the fuck do you keep drinking if you throw up every damn time?” sentiments from one drunk person to the other. she threw up her middle finger before hurling once more and then resting on the toilet.

“go get bobby,” she groaned into the porcelain bowl i would be sure to steer clear of for the rest of the night.

“sure thing,” i stumbled out of the quiet room and into the pulsating house of drunk people and dance music. i never liked these kinds of parties and asked myself why i even came. to take care of carla while she pukes, per usual? maybe i felt useless unless i was helping someone in some way. granted there are a lot more people out there who need more help than carla, shockingly enough.

i walked through crowds of sex and drugs, finally finding bobby on the couch with some sorority bitch. just my type. “carla needs you, she’s in the bathroom.” i shouted over the noise. he looked at me warily, whispered something to girl he was with, and got up and walked away. “he has a girlfriend,” i told her, “he wouldn’t treat you any nicer.”

“he said you’d say that,” she shouted back, smug and superior. i wasn’t even surprised. i smiled sarcastically and nodded before leaving. i walked to the kitchen to find my friend sam being the life of the party. he always was. everyone loved him and he could grab attention for hours on end, drunk or not.

“—so i was like, ‘ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!’ and then he fuckin’ socked me in the face! i wasn’t even the douchebag who threw the bottle at him! most ridiculous game i’ve ever been to. so naturally i—TIFFANY!” he broke through the crowd and embraced me tight, my charming friend sam. “how are you? i didn’t know you were coming out tonight!”

“i wasn’t, actually. i’m leaving right now. carla needed someone to hold her hair back.”

sam laughed, “she’s ridiculous, but don’t leave! i wanna hang with you!” he hugged me again and went back to his crowd.

i stuck around for about 20 minutes of enduring sweaty boys trying to crawl on top of me, sipping on a disgusting mix drink that turned me off to hawaiian punch forever, and saw a fight between carla and bobby. when i didn’t see sam again after this long, i knew he’d found a girl to take home, so i left. i know what you’re thinking, and no, i’m not jealous. we’re just friends. a rare possible existence for two straight young adults of the opposite sex, i know, but it has just never been like that. which i was a-okay with. i liked having boy friends who weren’t boyfriends.

i was tired of being disposable for these people, and tired of watching them all waste away. i felt like the only sane person there, but i knew there had to be someone else who felt the same. why i couldn’t find the people i desired to bond with, i didn’t understand. but i knew this wasn’t the place to find them.

that love daze we crave

i knew the ways she wanted to swim around me, and i really wanted her to. it was a steaming hot day in the middle of los angeles. we stayed in a hotel across town just to get away from our house for the night. it was tradition for once every couple months. we were restless together and this was our therapy for such an odd disfunction. the hazy air wrapped us like blankets, making being outside almost unbearable.

“fuck, it’s 104 degrees. this isn’t natural.” she moaned before jumping into the pool.

“it is for the valley. we should’ve gone farther this time, like to orange county.” i waded in up to my shoulders, spreading the water around.

“orange county is overrated,” she swam to me and held my back under my shoulderblades as she wrapped her legs around me, “but it would have been perfect for this weather.” she smiled and kissed my neck.

i laughed, “so is L.A.” i wrapped my arms around and held onto her. this was just what i needed. the sun was too bright as i looked into her eyes and followed the freckles that danced around her face. she had the brightest red hair i had ever seen. it was what attracted me to her first. my little vixen. i couldn’t help but think about fucking her right then and there. ”we should just get out of here. we deserve to be spoiled this weekend. let’s go to huntington and stay at a hotel on the beach,” i peered into her eyes before licking her lip, “and we can fuck on the way.” i whispered into her mouth. she kissed me hard and we couldn’t wait.

we gathered our things and ran back to room 110, our room scheduled for the next two nights, laughing all the way. i threw her on the bed and pulled off the top of her bikini. her perky, small nipples were inviting and i flicked them with my tongue while she grabbed my ass so hard i felt it down my legs.

she was a force i could not keep down and could not resist. she made me feel brand new yet comfortable, something i hadn’t felt before her. feeling the way i felt every day when i woke up was exhausting, but she made it tolerable. i drowned in her while she kissed my face all over. our legs entangled and became one. she made me feel whole, and as cheesy as it sounds, it made sense. and while my hands and lips explored her freckled, tan skin… i knew it was right.

memoirs of a theta

(photo via)

“i miss you and what we used to have,” were the words that kept playing in the back of my mind while she pretended to still care. but i knew she had a hard time caring about anyone but herself. and maybe that was not true. maybe it was just my bitter brain talking, but actions speak louder than words.

there used to be rainy days of laziness and runs home for a grilled cheese at lunch. she cooked them to perfection and we drenched them in ketchup while it poured outside and we dreaded running back to the brick buildings we were taught in. this was our time to bask in our freedoms. the only freedoms two high school girls are lucky to have: the freedom of leaving campus for lunch and the freedom of what we got to eat during that short thirty minutes away.

i would draw and write little nothings on her closet mirrors with white board markers. it was tradition. sometimes goofy, sometimes sweet—while she checked myspace for messages from her girlfriend. for an uptight family she was a wild one who went against the grain and broke the mold. maybe that is why i enjoyed her company so much. she was fucking insane, and i envied it.

we both shared passion for words, but i’m not sure she was aware of that. she would gush and awe over songs and their lyrics, and show them to me in hopes i would agree. even if i did not, i still appreciated her love for them and balanced with my own love for others. so as much as our passions were of different mediums, they still lied there, side by side, understanding the other. 

one early winter morning i walked from my house to hers before school. i had straightened my hair but it came undone in the mélange of fog, dew, and sweat. by the time i got to her room i had a frizzy mop that needed immediate maintenance. i borrowed her straightener while she finished getting ready and we listened to “my love” by justin timberlake on her small computer speakers. things were beginning to get tense but we didn’t know it yet. junior year of high school was one of the greatest years of our lives, no doubt. it was freedom in between school and work and parents. we danced in our fantasies of the future and got tangled up in our sugar overdoses.

one time she kissed me, tipsy in the garage. i pretended to be more drunk than i actually was when she asked, “can i kiss you?” and i said sure. or so i think. it must have been a blend of yes and no and i don’t know and maybe. a storm in my mind like the fake snow in the globes, flurrying about in the water that held it. it was casual and we weren’t alone, and i figured it was more aesthetics with a tinge of curiosity more than anything. then again the memories are slurred and blurred like smeared oil paints you can’t put back into place. i wonder if i had not labeled myself if she would have been after me. she always told me she had a crush on me until we were so close and best friends. maybe that is why she pushed me away when i found love. because my love was not her and maybe she loved me. but i am not sure i will ever know. maybe she knew a side of me i did not know.

i don’t know where i am going with this, because there are loose ends everywhere. i will always feel the need to save her. to be the one to save her. the truth is that no one can, but that it took me a physical effort to stop trying, because i will always love her in my own way. i will always mourn the frozen-in-time friendship we never let go of.

7.

i wanted to meet someone new. i wanted a meet-cute. i wanted a clean slate. i wanted to meet someone i knew nothing about, and discover pieces bit by bit. i must’ve wanted it bad, because when it happened… i was completely oblivious. and then i realized, but i ignored it. circumstance stood in the way, and i didn’t want to complicate things. little did i know that that was exactly what you needed: things to get complicated. but i didn’t want to risk being the enemy. no, i’m sweeter than that. and beside caring about everyone else, i needed to care about myself. i’m better than an interruption. at least i’ve learned what i needed to learn. don’t hold yourself back because of circumstance, distance, or other people in the way. don’t hide what you feel and don’t hide who you are and don’t hide what you feel is right. don’t run away from your desires, because you never know if it’s sitting there waiting for you. and you never know when it will slip away.

i burn and i pine and it is all my fault. i was taught my entire life to ignore love around me. the opposite of the society brainwash that usually fills a young girls’ mind. we are told from a young age to search for love. that love is all life is. from disney princesses being rescued by valiant princes to placing ourselves in submissive positions and waiting for love to come to us. i reached a point where i threw that all away, and the sad truth is that once i did that… love stayed away. and i accepted that because i wasn’t going to take down my goals and drive just to be in love. it simply wasn’t worth it. but the even further result of that is i forgot how to recognize love even when it slapped me across the face.

6.

“i had a dream he left her and came back to me. have you ever had a dream like that?”

i scoffed, “never.”

“really? even after that whole incident a few years ago?”

“no,” i kicked the rocks in my path of destruction, “because i knew it would never happen. i guess my subconscious did too.”

“well, it’s nice to dream, even if it isn’t possible. i felt good until i woke up.”

i rolled my eyes, “what good does that do?” chelsea shrugged and we kept walking.

it was getting dark. it was nice to go on walks with my sister again. we hadn’t since i was in middle school. even though we always detested each other to the great lengths of cracking eggs over each others heads while the other was sleeping, i always cherished the time we did spend civil with each other. back then it usually involved conversations like these, contemplating the meaning of life and why the men in our lives were scum bags. telling stories about our broken hearts, whether it was minor or major. even when i was in middle school my heart was getting stomped on my pubescent jerks on their skateboards while chelsea was the one breaking hearts of all the horny high-schoolers knocking on our door for her. more importantly, we discussed why the women in our lives were scum bags as well and why they had influenced us so. rampaging about why mom cheated on dad and why our aunts were drunks. the more time she spent living with me the more i realized how much we had in common. she was finally starting to feel like a sister and it felt much nicer than i expected.

5.

he was the worst in the morning. i’d wake up hours before him and it was rare when he’d give me my morning cuddle. but that didn’t matter too much since i knew he loved me and that was really all i needed. so i’d watch tv, or try to kiss him awake—he rarely budged. one morning was so frustrating that i went to the living room, curled up on the couch, and watched breakfast at tiffany’s for the first time.

men seem to complain a lot about not getting enough sex from their girlfriends. well, what happens when it’s the other way around? and if i brought it up, he’d still say to me today, “we didn’t have sex enough,” and i’d laugh in his face and remind of him of the morning i begged for it and he wouldn’t wake up. he always laughed when i threw that in his face.

i never held it against him because i thought it was normal. i knew it was okay for someone in the relationship to prefer sleeping over sex some mornings. i never understood why everyone made morning sex such a big deal, and then again i did. we sat at the table eating the breakfast i made. he didn’t read the newspaper and neither did i. so we sat there in silence, sipping our orange juice.

4.

that afternoon we ate in the kitchen. i made us tuna sandwiches—her favorite. we ate in silence (well, i tried), drank our lemonade, and i tried to read the newspaper while she went over the events again. she kept trying to make sense of everything but i knew that would not be happening anytime soon. but i played the “interested” role in the goal of saving my own verbal lashing from her about how little i cared.

“so, why exactly did you two split up?” i asked while taking a bite.

“why? the same reason every stupid couple gets divorced: he cheated on me. he fucked all of the whores i found him talking to on facebook.” she ripped a piece of crust off her sandwich and hastily shoved it in her mouth, staring out of the window.

i try to steer clear of language that crude when speaking about other people, but my sister is another story. she has been swearing since middle school and she does not care who she offends or who hears her. i remember the first time our father heard her swear, if you could even call it swearing. i don’t even know what she did, but i remember hearing her whisper “crap” to herself while we were eating dinner. when she returned to the dinner table dad said, “you better pray ten hail mary’s right now!” he was laughing about it somewhat, but she was clearly embarrassed. he is the only person she does not openly swear in front of to this day.

“who does that? random women on facebook?” i just do not understand people’s dating tactics these days.

“honestly, i don’t get it. i don’t fucking get it. i am beyond the point of crying over that asshole and i just want him to die. or get herpes. or anything horrible, really.” she rolled her eyes and sighed, this cute habit she has when she’s upset.

i was not sure what to say, so i did not say anything. there was nothing really to say. he messed up and she was right for leaving him. of course it hurts and there is nothing i can say or do to make it better for her. all i can do is sit here and listen and try not to gauge my eardrums out after the tenth time of hearing it all. again and again and again.

but things changed when i walked by her bedroom that night to find her crying. i hadn’t seen my sister cry in years. since i was about three, actually. i jumped on her back while we were in our swimming pool. i thought it would be fun to get some kind of swimming piggyback ride, i guess. but i was much heavier than my weakling sister, and she started to panic that she could not hold me. obviously as a three year old i had no idea what was going on and i just kept giggling and holding on. once she started screaming i panicked and started screaming but only squeezed her tighter.

she actually thought she was going to die that day until she opened to eyes to see that she and i were only about ten inches from the side of the pool. it still makes me laugh to think about how ridiculous that was. almost as ridiculous as our mother just watching and laughing while we almost died of mere fright. i never saw my sister in a pool again but also never saw her cry again. the fact that no man had ever made her cry, at least that i know of, but this one actually did, made me want to fly back to their cute little house in seattle and beat him to death. as much as my sister and i hated each other, i could not stand to see her cry. and i detested anyone or anything that made her do so.

i knocked on the door slightly, “chelsea? are you crying?”

“no, no,” she smashed her palms to her eyes and thrusted them to the sides, dragging her mascara across her cheeks, “i don’t cry, you know this. i haven’t cried since i was seven.”

“right. well i’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, okay?”

i cannot stand people who are in-denial and close their emotions. which makes me one big hypocrite because it is the epitome of me. and maybe that is why i hate it so much in other people. i know how frustrating it is to live with. but my sister was not always so shut off. it was ben who did this to her and i knew i needed to settle something with him to clear my mind.

so i went through her phone and wrote down his number. i didn’t know what i’d say yet, and i had no idea when i would call. i just needed it for safe keeping. i was a little worried about myself having his phone number. my self-control is not exactly what it should be, and i was afraid one day my anger for him would get the best of me and i would call before the right time. but who was to determine the right time? it happens when it happens.