Journal Entry: #302

There’s a kind of saying. I can’t remember how it goes, really, something like, “If the people in your life want to be with you, then they will make an effort to stay.” What am I supposed to do? If I have nobody like that?

Jace and I hopped around in puddles yesterday. It wasn’t really anything special. We weren’t smiling, we weren’t like little happy five year olds that you’d expect us to be hopping in puddles.

It was just an excuse to get out of the house. That’s all we’ve been doing lately, separate or together. Avoiding home. There’s no home for us to go to, really. Jace goes to Eli’s. I know it’s tough for him to spend time around his best friend, because when he does he’s tempted to spill his guts. But what happens if he does? I don’t like keeping my feelings bottled up, so I find a way to get it out. But JC is too young to go to clubs and get drunk.

Sometimes when they do something nice for us, make us feel loved, like we’re wanted in a family that wants nothing to do with kids who feel the way we do, it makes me happy. That’s the only time I’m happy. But I’m sad, too. I don’t know, I can’t figure it out. I’m torn in two directions at one time, and it’s tough. I don’t want to downsize my own feelings, but I know Jace is getting it ten times worse. He has my shadow to fill, because our parents feel like I have something to show and he doesn’t. He wants their attention, but he wants mine, too, and he wants Eli’s. There’s so many people he’s trying to please, and it’s hard to see him hurting so bad, but I have people I want to please, too. Because these people are the people that I know will get me out of here, if I dare.

Jace has what he needs, I know that. He has Eli. I can tell, when I see them laughing it up and acting like nothing’s wrong, that if Eli even had a hint, he’d take good care of Jace. Eli is the green light that I need.

There are people like that who exist. Jace has found who he’s going to have to lean on when I leave. The puzzle piece I need to find is hiding, but it’s not right under my nose. I turn eighteen in three months. I can make a break for it then, finally get my sunrise.

But I just need to know, if I go looking, are there really people like that? Because I don’t want to let everything go and look for something more worth while to hold onto, to know that that’s all I had, and I’ll never get it back. I just have to know. Eli can’t be the only one. I can’t be the only one.


Journal Entry: Number Unknown

Holden had kept a journal which upon he spilled every drop of blood he dared to call his own. Because he might’ve owned his soul, but nothing more, because his parents stamped their name like tattoos upon his wrists, his neck, his forehead, anything he dared to show, because he wasn’t just his own, he was owned.

‘Everyone tells me I have my mother’s eyes. Shining green like emeralds, and my brother’s a pale crystal blue, like diamonds.We are a broken scatter of jewels locked behind the walls of this house, the bars on our windows keeping our glow away from the world. We wait to be rescued, to be mined and sold like property, because that’s all we are in this family. Nothing but a broken pair of belongings that our parents want desperately to throw away, but they show us off instead. They polish us, shine us, scrub us clean and send us off into the world with a one-thousand page manual telling us how to act.

When people say to me that I have my mother’s eyes, I want to tell them, “No, they are not my mother’s. My mother’s eyes are sad and dark and empty. She does not own these eyes. These eyes have hope, they are bright and happy. These eyes are mine, just like every part of me is my own.”

I am not pieces of two seemingly perfect things jammed together in an attempt to be a near perfect replica. I am not ingredients tossed into a bowl and mixed together. I am all parts me, not one part this and one part that. So don’t say that I am anything like my parents. They shove me and my brother behind a broken frame, forcing us to smile when all we want to do is scream for someone to save us.

That is not a family. That is a cocktail of alcohol and poison mixed together so you can’t tell the difference. Do not mistake us for someone else when all we are is ourselves.

Which is something we are not allowed to be unless we keep it a secret.’

Rubber Bands and Popped Balloons

Tripping over words,
Like tripping over your own feet.
Strong willed and stubborn,
And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.
Everything we thought was impossible,
Falling into our lap.

You spread lies like jam on toast,
And it hurts when you shove your fingers down my throat.
You talk like you know it all,
But you need to keep quiet,
Because with a mouth like that,
You’ll have people coming at you from all directions.

But hey, here we are, we survived,
And everything exchanged with cracking knuckles against bruised cheeks,
Well, things like that just complicate the situation.

You fly like you were taught,
But can you walk like us?
We’re all we need,
But you need us.

We don’t know any direction but forward,
So just watch us try and backtrack.
Go away, please stay,
Will you just make up your mind?

Behind metal bars isn’t how I wanna live.
Give me the key and we’ll get by,
The blows delivered getting under my skin.

Rattling off words like you know what they mean,
But can you read the notes on this music sheet?
You’re nothing but show,
Your words giving way to fault.

You act like you were trained,
But can you talk like us?
You don’t know a goddamn thing,
And that’s why you need us.

We sink like the Titanic,
Just sit back and watch us float,
I love you, but I hate you.
Someone tell me how to feel.

Because you rattle me like I rattle the bars of my cage.