weedsss

it hasnt been my day, my week, my month, or even my year.

give give give= ____ ____ ____ ??? that doesn't make any sense at all.

toss your cookies

thats really gross.

you're tiny.

you're not.

i prefer you as a blonde.

i just cracked my ankles.

read me a story.

ten perfect little red squares.

watch me while i walk awayyyyy.

fold, paste, repeat.

ive got sparkles from head to toe.

let the rain sing you a lullaby at night.

what if i were?

i read that.

and i think you're too hard on yourself.

again and again til i get it right.

just one more time.

silver liquid drops.

i want to sit on the beach.

with you.

in the rain.

you know you make me wanna....!

barffff.

i broke a nail.

curve and turn and curve again. and it hits me like a ton of bricks. and suddenly the wheels are turning again, and it all makes sense. and absolutely no sense at all, of course.

the look in your eyes got me noticing. the way your head never sits exactly upright. the way you always seem to look disheveled, like you're running late. it made me remember that. and right then and there i made up my mind. i was okay with giving away sixteen. because honestly, what am i holding out for? what is waiting another sixteen or forty of three hundred. it doesnt matter. its just for me.

so adios sixteen. welcome to the rest of my life.

do you know something i dont?

CARMEX IS ADDICTING

dun dun DUNNN!

how can i describe this in a way that you can understand. its like i am watching the roses in my vase wilt. each day they get further and further from life. there is no way to recover them, no way to nurse them back to life, because i am never home to feed them. there are a few lone roses still standing tall, even with the murky brown water. they seem to have fused together, so no matter what i do now they're going to be alive forever, leaning on each other for the life they crave.

when it gets to the point that all i have a vase of dead roses in murky brown water, i understand that it must be time to run to the market and purchase some new roses. i'm supposed to get new roses when i leave the house. new roses would make the room bright again. new roses would change everything.

but the market is all out or roses. and i have no money, and i am one hundred percent completely out of time.

kick off the covers.

my sleeves are long. too long and black. not too thick not too thin. just perfect. one perfect thing, to keep me warm. one perfect thing to give this short arm a glimmer of hope. its contagious.

karen is nagging. she wants to know my schedule so she can help me. she knows all. i see her pudgy pale face on the back of the beige bathroom stall. and i refrain. sometimes.

but what i really want to ask is why. why are you still seven years old? have you forgotten to eat your weaties every morning? is your mother failing to give you all your fruits and vegetables? is that why you are unable to grow up big and strong, like superman? unable to climb the stairs alone? and um, excuse me, but i see you hiding behind those boxes little girl. im afraid to touch your skin, it might melt off or just CRACK into a million little pieces. i want to dip you in wax and preserve you and the grass colored room forever. even if it reeks of smoke and stale potato chips.

HEY! do you see the hot air balloon? the one soaring over this nineteen story prison cell! its coming for me, its going to take me to the moon. or maybe just somewhere else, somewhere far away. me and my balloon can stop by and pick you up if you want, the adventure will only last a few days, but i promise it will be one you'll never forget.

c'mon! hurry! lets go! please?!?! before i get cold again. before the silver cracks its whip. before the blue glass beads and red pearls form an indestructible piece of jewelry.