Thursday, May 12, 2011

Home

I woke up sometime when it was light, a ringing in my ears, snot stuffing my nose, and my eyes puffy and swollen. When I had my surroundings in check I realized I was still the the bakery, the power back on. I was on the floor, curled up in a ball from crying. I had cried myself to sleep in front of the entire town, in a freaking bakery...
I had come to the sad, depressing, life altering conclusion of my life. I was my parents in every way shape and form. Well, not form since I didn't look a thing like them. But the problem was, I did. I was just a big a cliche as them, just as stupid of a trend as them, just as made up and fake as them. I may not have been bottle blond and perfect, but I was bottle black and rebellious. I based my image off of what society told me was rebellious, and my parents based themselves off of what society told them was perfect. I was a looser, a bitch, a stereotype, a complete failure!!! I had gone so far left of them I came all the way back right! What was I doing with my life?!
I stood up and wobbled slightly, stiff from my rough night sleep on the floor. I popped my joints and stretched before I headed on home.
All the people I had been mean to, that pirate guy at the carnival. I was a spoiled brat, and he deserved to yell at me.
"I've earned my place here, lets see you do as much."
I hadn't earned my place, I had abused it, stomped on it, spat in its face.
I began taking out my piercings as I walked, my lips, my nose, my tongue, my eyebrow... They were all stupid cliches that were not even worth it. They hurt like hell to get them, hurt after, and looked god damn stupid. They landed on the ground with a clink, rolling into the gutter.
I was sorry I had kicked that clown off of his tricycle, he hadn't deserved that. Hey, he had found a job he loved, even if it was annoying to me... I was sorry I had yelled at the guy who had given me trash bags for a prize. He had saved me $5.80... I was sorry that robber had gotten squished by the ATM. That had to have hurt, even if he was a thief, didn't we all want money? He just had the balls to steal it. I was sorry I had yelled at the woman who was on the date with that clown. At least she had found love, which was something I would never find... Someone couldn't love you if you didn't love you, and I hated myself. I hated myself now more than I hated my parents.
My feet sloshed through puddles as I crossed the street to my apartment building. I remembered hearing the sound of the thunder in my dreams last night... I stopped and looked down at the water, seeing my reflection on its surface. Puddles lie, because I looked like I had a couple years ago. Blond, smiling, free of holes in my face.... I kicked at it and the me I knew and hated looked back at me. Blood dripped down into the puddle from my lip, I had pulled it out a little to hard...
"What do I do now?" I asked myself.
"You know, go back home." I told me.
"I don't want to, just because I realize I'm fake doesn't mean I want to be with them again."
"Yes you do, you want to go back home and be YOU. Not them, not Crimson, YOU."
I thought about what I had said before I realized I was talking to myself it a puddle. I left my slippers there in the puddle as I walked off, walking another 2 minutes before I came back to my apartment.
BANG!!!
A shot suddenly ran through the air. I jumped at the sound, slipping on the oily granite and falling into a large puddle, soaking myself. My eyes widened as I saw a man's head explode, and then a man walk off the building and crack his head open on the ground, and then another shot from the roof. I screamed and scrambled to get up, running into my building. This place was freaking crazy. I went up to my room and began to pack, knowing what I had to do.
When I was done got in my car that I had stolen from a junk yard and drove off, finally ready to be myself...

Monday, May 9, 2011

The First Word in Blueberries is Blue...

At exactly 3:14 PM the next day, my life sucked more than usual. I'm up after a really good long nap and i get up to get some food to eat. I start microwaving my dumplings, filling my sh**** apartment with the awesome smell of food when MY FREAKING POWER GOES OUT!!!!!!!!!! yeah, I'm freaking pissed! I pay my god damn electric bill to keep this freaking place running and the freaking power goes out anyway! What the hell?!?!?!?!?! No, I LIVE IN HELL!!!! Yeah I'm pissed more than usual, Ive had a bad week, I'm coughing up a storm because of that stupid god damn carnival, i got yelled at by A PIRATE, and I had the worst dream in the history of dreams about me apologizing to my parents for being a bad child!
I picked up my microwave and chuck it across the room, watching it smash against my wall and dumpling juice squirt on the floor. I had had enough. I grabbed my coat and stormed outside. Screw my pajama pants with skulls on them that are too short for public, screw my little black slippers, screw my black tank top that's all wrinkly and screw my black hair half up in a pony tail half down since i messed it up sleeping, SCREW IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!
Suddenly, as I marched out onto the street, a scent filled my nose that stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't tell what it was at first. It was delicious, but in a bitter way, like a smell that made you happy and want to punch someone at the same time. As I slowly breathed it in it came to me what it was that I smelled. Blueberry pie... Blueberry pie...blueberry pie... why did this smell calm me down so suddenly? i felt no residual hatred of my power outage, all i wanted was to stand there in my pajamas and smell this delicious memory. Wait, memory... what did this remind me of...? When had blueberry pies meant anything to me besides a delicious desert that i could no longer afford? As i continued to breathe in the smell it hit me. I was thrust back to my childhood, before I had rebelled. I was in the kitchen, looking up at my mom. She was dressed in a pink apron, stirring something in a bowl. As the memory played I saw myself helping her bake and laughing with her as we made a mess. She kissed the top of my head as she slid the pie into the oven, then again as she slid it out and the familiar scent of blueberry pie wafted into my nose.
Oh my god... I ran to the source of the smell, barely keeping my slippers on as i sprinted to the pie shop. I shoved a man out of the way that I knew to be Charles Stevens, he hated everyone as much as i did, but not right now, not at this glorious moment... I ran to the counter and when I saw the blueberry pies i burst into tears right there and sank to my knees, sobbing in front of the entire neighborhood who were just there for pies, and nothing else.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Am I wrong...? Nah.

For a teenage girl I ate all the time. I joked sometimes that I was a teenage boy at heart. All of my finances went to eating, or at least most of them. Rent was a bitch too. I headed down the street away from the screaming men with the ATM and went to go get some food. I found a few bucks that had fallen out of the ATM and headed over to the Vietnamese restaurant for some chow. When i went inside i found the man that had yelled at me at the counter, devouring some dumplings like there was no tomorrow. Had yelling at me staved him? I hoped so. he was a stupid adult that thought he knew everything but knew nothing, and he thought I was the know-it-all?! I DID know everything I needed to know. Adults bred by society were wack-a-doodles and needed to all crawl in a hole and die.
Off topic and deciding to ignore him, I found a table and ordered what what my new wad of cash could buy me, which was surprisingly a lot. I got some dumplings too, just because they were filling, their little pouches stuffed to perfection, a bowl of brown looking noodles topped with unidentified vegetables and meat, and lastly some little egg role type things that just smelled like heaven. However my appetite was spoiled by thinking about the guy on the counter. I couldn't stop thinking about what he had said to me, and noticed I had barely touched my dinner by the time I felt full. I got a dogie bag, paid, then left to bring the left overs home.
Could i have been the one wrong all along...? My parents were freaks yeah, and they deserved to rot in hell, and they had forced me to be something I didn't want, and were not proud of me for being the person I wanted to be.... I talked myself out of the stupid notion and continued home, wanting to fill my fridge with my noodles and dumplings.