begin the begin.

thursday the first

“christmas and new year’s fell on the same day this year,” I hummed.
“thursday thursday thursday.”
[finding odd relationships was always my forte.]

“and my new year’s resolutions are to figure out a way to fix the auto-
capitalize on my computer and to writewritewrite and to not feel
anything for my parents anymore.”
of course I didn’t share that with you.
I was too busy trying to explain that
“a resolution isn’t a resolution unless you come up with it yourself.”

“how about your resolution is to be less miserable at home?” my dad says.
“how about your resolution is to get off of my back?” I mutter in response.

friday the second

what about people that actually try and
what about people that actually give a crap?
“those type of people left the world long ago,” you say.
“you may be the last of the species.”
“that makes me feel lonely,” I say.
so I curl up on the floor and trace the band-aid over the hole in my arm
and try to remember the last time I lost control of my body.
“I’ve only ever lost control of my mouth,” I remember. my arms and legs
were never a problem because I never had any reason to use them
when my tongue was sharp and my words even sharper.
but peoplepeoplepeople they’re only human and they lose control.
“does that make me a god?” I ask, and you laugh.
“you don’t make enough decisions to be a god.”

saturday the third

and I just laughed
because I knew you were wrong.

monday the fifth

I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you I don’t believe you.
                                                                _{[but I really wish I could.]}

tuesday the sixth

the ghosts of all the words I’ve ever said
were haunting me today because some
of them I wish I could take back and
throw away before they left my mouth.
and nothing screams “freshman!” like
walking through the day with a beat-up
p.e. book and a messy colored posterboard
and eyes half-threatening to overflow any
minute.  the good thing about showers is
that not even you can tell the water from
your tears.

thursday the eighth

I guess you know now
how hard it is for me to just let myself go
and actually tell you how I feel
instead of just writing it out.

I guess you know now
that I have so much more to say.

monday the twelfth

you were the critic and I was the one
who did everything and nothing right
and you tried to fix me but in the end
you ended up learning that you were
the one that needed to be fixed.

tuesday the thirteenth
what scares me most is every
time you ask me “what are your
friends like?” and I have to respond

“I don’t know.”

friday the sixteenth

I hope you know I’m afraid to love you.

wednesday the twenty-first

I turn the faucet two hundred seventy degrees to the left,
passing my normal blue and entering the angry slash of red.
the water pours from the showerhead
like music from a pair of headphones,
filling every inch of me.

but the goosebumps still litter my skin and I still feel a chill inside.
and my mind keep going back to the same question:

if a person is a person through other persons,
why won’t you make me the person I long to be?

friday the twenty-third

I've always thanked people for everything -
even the tiniest little favors.
and I'm starting to wonder what if feels like to be the one
constantly receiving the thanks
instead of constantly handing them out.

saturday the twenty-fourth

everyone complains about cuts made with a blunt knife,
but in my experience,
cuts made with a sharp knife

can hurt just as bad.

wednesday the twenty-eighth

someone I love and respect very much once told me:
“abigail, you can do anything,”
and I guess I took her words to heart, because
I aim high and work hard
and almost always reach my goal.

I haven’t spoken to her since then,
but her words still ring true,
and I still believe in myself
above everything else.

and I still fight for everything I want,
because in my experience, if you just sit around
waiting for something to happen,
you’ll never be prepared when it does.

thursday the twenty-ninth

I guess my heart will keep beating
and my lungs will keep filling.
sometimes the body’s will to breathe
can overpower even the strongest urge
not to.

friday the thirtieth

last night I dreamed about you.

again.