Lip Glossed Lips

I’m all alone now and there’s no one to blame for it but me. I pushed my friends away and screamed that they are shallow, shallow and never changing like a stale dirty pond. I want the people who are rushing rivers, crashing waterfalls, flowing oceans and yet it seems like I know everyone at school and so it’s hopeless to wait for someone new to come along and change my stale dirty life. I sit and listen to the gossip, to the talking behind trembling backs, to the “you didn’t hear it from me but…” until I’m so sick of it I grab their shoulders, shake them, shout “I don’t give a f**k about her boyfriend.” So they nod and back away to talk behind my back, asking “what’s wrong with her?”

Why can’t you all grow up and get concerns a little bigger than the words you text each other, words dripping with thick slimy exaggeration, fabrication.

Now, every time my phone dings I turn it on with fear of seeing another “so is it true?” or “we need to talk.” But I don’t want to! I don’t want to give you an explanation that you will later reword and change so it will be more interesting for your friends to hear. I don’t owe you anything! Why can’t you leave me all alone and go and vulture on someone else who’s more defenseless? And yet I suffer here ‘cause I’m alone.

But isn’t this solitude better than being surrounded by people who, if they were books, would be five-paged comics? You flip through their colorful pages and then you chuck them, cause there're hundreds just like them. With the family I have I was destined to become a heavy novel, yet here I am, in a trash bin. Here I am, a dirty stale pond of a life, crying about not being a waterfall.

F**k all of you, I’m done, I’m finished. I don’t want to see your greedy needy faces anymore, don’t want to see you lip glossed lips that hide sharp fangs I know the pain of too well by now. I’m going away because I don’t care about you and I know you don’t care about me, so why do we still talk? I’m going away because you all are just not good people. Please, go and have sex and drink and smoke but don’t invite me to your parties that are there just to forget about your petty s****y lives.

Why did he leave you? Because you treat him like a dog, a good looking boy to show your friends.

Why did she leave you? Because you treat her like a sex doll, a trophy to put on your shelf among the football ones.

F**k you. And f**k her too. Excuse me as I leave this burning building.