Can I be you
adulthood is realising no one cares about you and the show must go on
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Everything looked grey.
It was February, and the snow hadn’t melted all the way. My finger tips didn’t know what temperature they wanted to be so they felt distant. Softly, they tingled with a luke-warm sensation.
Forty five miles an hour. “Forty-five, stay alive” my nan always use to say. The roads weren’t bad, but they were getting there.
I don’t know how to be different but I also don’t know how to be normal.
I try to just be myself but I don’t really know who I am. It’s like I don’t know what path I need to take.
The blinker on my rusted out explorer signaled left. I could drive there with my eyes closed.
One thing that I know I’m good at, though, is that I like to fuck. I feel like I’m really bossy and I fight to get these words out because I feel anxious. I really hate getting distracted.
Like a distant echo, the chirp of my phone snapped me back to reality.
He is messaging me and I don’t know what to do. He really makes me want to get pregnant. But then again I don’t think he wants kids?
I really don’t know that.
I’m going to ask.
Still don’t know. I played both sides of the field. At first I acted really concerned and worried. Almost like awkward, saying sorry a lot. But then I didn’t want him to think I was a little bitch so I said that even if I did get pregnant it wouldnt be a big deal because I would “do what I had to do”.
Whatever it would be, who knows?
But his response was, “no babe WE would do whatever WE had to do”
This boy kills me sometimes. Every quality he has is making me fall in love with him. He’s going to be one who has to make me work.
But I think he’s a cheater. I feel like he’s always lying to me. I don’t know why, it’s just the look in his eyes. And our kisses were so dark and rich and sweet at first. Now I feel like they are forced. I don’t know, I’m so crazy. But maybe crazy can be substituted for insecure and maybe insecure can be substituted for unsure.
Unsure.
….
“Dammit Joe, I told you to change the oil on this thing the last time you were here. You’re almost 3500 over.”
I smiled like a little kid. He was right; I didn’t take care of anything I owned.
“Sorry Pap, I’ve just been really busy. It’s nice to see you though, did you get taller?”
He scoffed, and I knew I was forgiven. “Seriously kid, I know she’s old but if you treat her right you can get a couple more years out of her. Get inside and go get you somethin’ to eat, Nan just made breakfast.”
How many lies can one tell before they are consumed within them?
A safe number to me would be eleven.
Something that I think often about is death. I mean, not always in a suicidal way but in that gut feeling kind of way.
I think I know how my life is going to end. But that’s a story for another time.
“Mornin’ sunshine. Watcha got on the menu today?”
“Your ass if you don’t stop scaring me like that.”
Nan always got startled way to easy. I asked her why once and she said it was because she was always prepared. “You never know what’s going to be behind that corner”.
I understand why you want me back. I understand that you just need me materialisticly. Is it bad that I’m so lonely that I’m okay with staying?
notweirdjustgay