Taste The Sickness
April 1, 2013 Monday 5:09 AM
"Alibis" by Marianas Trench
I still taste that sickness
And it makes me crazy without it at best
I'm in the same place I used to be
But I'm trying harder not to be
This is not the man I hoped to be
I'm just trying to stop the bleeding
I don't know how to word it
I just started to deserve it
It tastes bitter and warm, thick and gooey. It reminds me of cold fingers and feet, chills up my spine, and music pulling lonely feelings and stringing them into sad songs. It reminds me of hot nights and hotter days, big t-shirts and winnie the pooh pajama shorts.
The TV playing, but on mute. The couch all messed up with a comforter thrown carelessly across it. Me, on the computer, sifting for something good among all the bad thoughts.
It reminds me of the distinct smell of cigarettes, as easy to distinguish as my sister's scent on a sweater.
It's so good and so bad.
It reminds me of evil things, when I picked up a black book and found out it was a diary. I kept reading. I shouldn't have.
If I reach down farther, it reminds me of dark nights and fireflies, burgers, splinters, campfires, roadtrips.
It reminds me of when I lived in California, and Caroline was always gone with Travis, and I was always locked up in my room, playing with my toys. Alone.
Every single memory mixed into one. The little things I never mentioned. The way Ethan moves his hands a lot and calls me ugly, but I don't care. The way Caroline is really pretty, but when we're at home, she puts her hair up in a bun, puts on my jeans, and my mom's coat.
I never mentioned how my mom is always saying sorry, or how my dad came into my room on Saturday and told me mom doesn't love him.
How i feel sick whenever I remember anything.
And how the song I listed above reminds me of the time when I went to Lily's that I felt like I was dying, so I turned this up really loud, and fell over. I stayed in that jittery, freaky, crazy fucking mood for three hours.
How I got in another one of those moods the last time I slept over at her house, but I didn't tell her, and I eventually worked through it for the first time ever.
Every time I go to therapy, I say "I feel okay" and nothing else, no truth.
How I often feel like I don't really have any friends.
And why I'm always picking stupid fights, and ignoring people.
Evil evil evil.
How my therapist winks dramatically at me all the time, and how she kind of reminds me of home in a weird way, but a home in which doesn't involve a million kinds of fighting, screaming, and kicking.
How I buried a key in the sandbox when she asked me to make a picture to describe how it felt to be in my mind. And then I split it into two sections, one with a bunch of landmarks, all the places I'd love to go, and then the other side, a skill with it's top cracked open (open mind) and a bus with the same fucking path every fucking time.
How for awhile, all I ever thought of was cutting.
How I always think about how much money my parents could use for better things than me. How it'd be easier if I was gone.
Little, tiny things.
Me, blowing a kiss at my sister. She catches it and puts it in her pocket. She blows me a kiss. I catch it, and save it. I blow her another kiss, she mimics grabbing it and eating it. Then, blows me a kiss. I do what she did.
Last summer, sitting on the roof talking on the phone with Eric.
right now. I'm wishing this was enough.
But this isn't even remotely close to how I'm feeling right now.