Neurosis

Five different people. Five different problems.

Ch. 4 Erika -15-

London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down

My feet are overhanging.  My butt is to the concrete floor.  It's starting to fall asleep.  I'm tired of people telling me what its supposed to feel like.  When you're supposed to feel it.  How you're supposed to feel.  I'm supposed to be home in fifteen minutes, but I won't be there.  Not now...not for a long time.  I don't even know why I'm waiting.  I guess I'm afraid that if I let go now, I might miss something very important in the next few minutes  so far nothing.  I don't know.  Maybe I'm just afraid.

London bridge is falling down.  My fair lady.

What am you afraid of? I asked myself.  Am I more afraid of being alive?  Or am I just like the rest of those humans?  Afraid to get hurt; afraid of death.  I'm not sure what I'm more scared of.  Sometimes I scare myself.  Especially when I started cutting last year.  That really scared me, because I didn't know why I was doing it.  It wasn't accomplishing anything, but it sure did make me feel better.  I don't know why.

How will we build it up? Build it up?  Build it up?

That's the same year my father left my family.  I guess it all went downhill from there.  But when it really started to hit me, when I really started to hurt....  Well, it all started with Zach Dynam.

My fair lady.

~February 12, 2008~

Today, I'm depressed.  I was supposed to write a poem for English class.  So I did.  And I hate it.  I really hope she doesn't make us read it in class.  I hate reading out loud in front of a crowd.  I hate doing everything in English class.  It always consists of embarassment and torture.  Always.  And, ironically, I love to read and write.  I just hate this class.  Most especially, the people in it.

"Okay, get out your notebook, kiddies.  We'll get your homework checked, then we'll go over your poems for revisement.  Anyone would like to share theirs as I go around the room for homework points?" Mrs. Clair said, getting out her clipboard.

Zach, some kid from my class, raised his hand.  He was one of those genius idiots, those annoying pricks that are so funny, you just can't help but laugh.  He likes to pick on the quiet ones like me to be funny and it really sucks.  I mean, he thinks its okay because I laugh and really I just can't help it [the dumbass I am] but it really isn't.  It hurts, you know?  He's funny.  And I hate him.

Zach walked up to the front of the room.  The guys snickered and coughed; they knew this would be good.

"Uh, this is a poem by me.  Zach.  Alright, I'm about to start.  You guys might want to take in a deep breath, because this poem's gonna knock the shizzle out of you."

He pretended to ready himself for his "big moment".

"Roses are blue, violets are grey, I can't help but think...that Erika makes my day!"

Built it up with silver and gold.  Silver and gold.  Silver and gold.

Some of the guys faces were red, trying to keep from laughing.  I cowered in my seat, my cheeks hot and my arms wrapped over my chest.  I feel two inches tall.  God, I hate him.  What a f*****g prick.  As if Mrs. Clair would--

"Class, settle down!" Mrs. Clair yelled.

She didn't even stop him.

"Her bright red hair, her flowing rivers of gold, she keeps me warm...when I am cold."

The class was snickering.  God, I hate this kid.  And my hair is not red.  It's a reddish brownish.

"With her heart and soul, her gracious smile, it makes me proud...but only for a while.

Her glistening skin, makes me want to grin.  But her head full of lies, I can only despise.

I know she is weird and has grown a beard, but it's alright...because I love Erika.  And that's tight!"

A cruel joke, it was.  He wasn't even looking at me.  It was like he didn't even care that he was embarassing me to my death.  It's like he didn't even realise he just ripped my lungs out and stomped on them.  I feel like I'm a puddle on the floor.  He was making fun of me.  And he didn't even stop to look at me  glance  just to see if I was alright.  No, it was like a hit-and-run.  I'm the roadkill.  I'm run over.  And no one stopped to bury me.  To drag me off the side of the road, so I can die in peace.  Instead, they just let me lay there on the road, bleeding, letting car after car run over my crushed bones and bleeding tissue.  No one could stop to look at me and see the damage done.  No one could stop to say goodbye.  Was there not one person who loved me?  Was there not one person who saw past the joke; no one saw how it hurt me? 

  My fair lady.

Was there no one who could speak up for me?  Could I even speak up for myself?

"Okay, okay.  Enough is enough.  Sit your buttox down, Mr. Dynam." Mrs. Clair said, setting her clipboard down on her desk.  F*****g b***h.

"That was by Zach Dynam, poet of the century." he added, before sitting back down in his seat.  The class was still smiling from laughing so hard.

Was there a part of him that even considered, just a little bit, how much something as little as a joke could make me feel like the scum at the bottom of someone's shoe?  Because it's there, but no one pays attention to it.

Build it up with needles and pins,
Needles and pins, Needles and pins.

Remembering how much I hated Zach makes me think about how much I hate my life.  All those people who've laughed at me all these years.  Called me names, thought I was weird, thought I was different, so automatically I was a martian.  It was like no one ever considered believing that I had feelings.

My fair lady.

My fingers grip the concrete floor.  I feel ready.  I feel it coming.  Whatever it is, I feel like it's coming.  I don't know where it's coming from, or what will happen to me next, but I feel the wind blowing and it feels good and I just want to fly.  For once, I want to spread my wings.  I just want to fly away like other birds.  I want to fly like the others.  I want to be like everyone else.

Stone so strong will last so long.  My fair lady.

I don't know what else to say.  Maybe because there's nothing left to say.  So I guess I'm going to fly.

I pushed myself off and let go off the edge of the bridge.

And for your information, martians have feelings too.