Jealousy

Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls with Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair
By Jeanann Verlee

When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boys call asking your cup size, say A, hang up.
When he says you gave him blue balls, say you’re welcome.
When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you’re a boy, explain that you keep your hair short so she won’t have anything to grab when you head-butt her.
Then head-butt her.
When a guidance counselor teases you for handed-down jeans, do not turn red.
When you have sex for the second time and there is no condom, do not convince yourself that screwing between layers of underwear will soak up the semen.
When your geometry teacher posts a banner reading: “Learn math or go home and learn how to be a Momma,” do not take your first feminist stand by leaving the classroom.
When the boy you have a crush on is sent to detention, go home.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boy with the blue mohawk swallows your heart and opens his wrists, hide the knives, bleach the bathtub, pour out the vodka. Every time.
When the skinhead girls jump you in a bathroom stall, swing, curse, kick, do not turn red.
When a boy you think you love delivers the first black eye, use a screw driver, a beer bottle, your two good hands.
When your father locks the door, break the window.
When a college professor writes you poetry and whispers about your tight little ass, do not take it as a compliment, do not wait, call the Dean, call his wife.
When a boy with good manners and a thirst for Budweiser proposes, say no.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boys tell you how good you smell, do not doubt them, do not turn red.
When your brother tells you he is gay, pretend you already know.
When the girl on the subway curses you because your T-shirt reads: “I fucked your boyfriend,” assure her that it is not true.
When your dog pees the rug, kiss her, apologize for being late.
When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Jersey City, do not move.
When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Harlem, do not move.
When he refuses to stay the night because your air conditioner is broken, leave him.
When he refuses to keep a toothbrush at your apartment, leave him.
When you find the toothbrush you keep at his apartment hidden in the closet, leave him.
Do not regret this.
Do not turn red.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.


I don't know why I picked this one exactly. It just seemed real, yet so far from anything that would ever happen to me. I guess that's why I like it I wish I wasn't suck in this little bubble that way I could actually write something worth reading. Something other than Love and the cold weather. I'm just jealous because the way she words things, the way she's not afraid to say something because she might offend someone. I almost didn't post this, because I thought would if I offend someone. That's my problem. I tiptoe around everyones expectations of who I should be. Why can't I be one of those risk takers?

Pari holds the key to your heart

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was so excited to go to Paris.

It was all I hoped for and more. I was nervous at the beginning, then I got comfortable and learn to love everything about it.
The last couple weeks I have gone sight seeing, I left my journal and the coffe shops. I have become.....well a tourist you could say.
Part of me feels bad, because paris taught me so many things I never would have learn other wise. But my hands have run out of words and I'm home sick.

So now all I can say is it's been real good, but it's time to go home.
Don't worry I will take part of you with me and maybe come back and visit from time to time.

Goodbye



Sad Chairs

Nobody puts baby in the corner.
 

Hakuna Matata

Dreams of the undreamable

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Have you ever thought of killing yourself?

 

Not REALLY killing yourself, but killing yourself.

 

Waking up one morning and forgetting everything you've become, everything you have been.

Forgetting yourself and everyone you "use" to know?

 

I have.

 

Just erasing everything. Going to a different class without the "okay" of your counselor. Not showing up for work. Ever again. Maybe changing schools, getting a new phone number.  Without warning, not telling anyone, just gone. Would it be as if you were dead? Would you be considered missing and never found? Would you be "that girl" that everyone gave up on?  Would anyone even notice and if they did, would they care?

 

Sometimes I wonder if people even notice me, see me. Am I just that one girl, in that one class?

 

I don't know. What is graduating High School if you don't even exist? Not being asked to you senior prom would matter a whole lot less if you didn't even go there anymore. The things that "mean" so much, would be nothing, absolutely nothing. Without people who seem to care, you wouldn't either. You could disappear for a day without anyone questioning where you had been, because you'd already be gone. You could read that book because you now don't owe your time to anyone else, but yourself.

 

Oh how I dream about disappearing...

 

If only.

 

 

 

If only.

blackout

Get away, don't ask questions trust me, to the island of love it's probably simpler.

Truth is terrible, treat with caution.


Shut up take extreme caution don't touch anything odd.

 

Freak, just freak.

"When you are resurrected, you can't die. Like if someone took out an AK47 and shot you 30 times in the chest, you still wouldn't die." - my little brother




Sometimes I wish I could be a little kid again.

I remember driving in the car and wanting so badly just to put my headphones in, crank up my music and check out for a couple hours. I never could. I had to be aware of what was going on. What if I missed something important? So I would sit there and listen to my parents conversation, sibilings whining and the humming coming from my sisters headphones.

 I remember that big cherry tree I use to climb in my backyard. I remember the storm that blew it over. I remember that storm taking away part of my childhood.

I remember when I would get to go to work with my dad. It was the coolest thing in the whole wide world! I got to play with those red monkeys that lived in a barrel. I remember being so sick, with a fever, and I had to lay on the floor next to his desk while he worked. But I still loved being there with him.

I remember fighting with my dad saying with a lisp "I not nuts, you nuts" he would throw it right back at me, eventually we would agree that my stuffed puppy was the "nuts" one.

I remember being sick and my grandpa woke me up and we "snuck out" to get a milkshake from burger king. He would bribe me to memorize the articles of faith with golden dollars and spearmint gum, it worked.

I remember sharing a room with my sister in the basement. She would always make me turn off the light, I was terrified. I would turn it off, run, jump off of a laundry basket and launch onto the bed, sometimes on top of her. We would blast Backstreet boys, Nsync, dreamstreet and Hannah Montana and have dance parties in that basement room.

I remember when my parents told us we were moving, it was one of the greatest days of my life. I could finally get away from all our weirdo neighbors. The ones who would swing their rat by it's tail until it fell off and went flying through the air. The ones that would put preyingmantis's in my hair. Zack, the little boy that was missing his 2 front teeth and chase me around trying to kiss me. The "smokers" a.k.a. the crack house full of whores. The red headed twins that lived next door. And Venessa, Venessa would eat worms, dried up worms. No joke it was freaking sick!

I remember eating watermelonon the drive way and my sisters telling me if I ate the blackseeds I wouldn't poop them out and a watermelon would grow inside me, like a baby. When my sister didn't want me to eat the rest of the cottage cheese, so she told me it was made out of goat heart and all this other nasty stuff. I still can't eat it till this day.

I remember life being so simple, easy, fun & happy. Give me a piece of paper and colored pencils, I wouldn't think twice, I would just start coloring. Because I wasn't worried if people were going to like it or not, whether it was creative or not. What changed? I don't know exactly, I still have the same name, the same mind, but I've been given a different number. Once you've reached a certain number, coloring in church isn't okay anymore. Nap time and snack time are taken away. I still have a stomach and I still need my beauty sleep.

What is a number really?
I still want simplicty.
I want to have fun and be happy.
I want to draw a unporportionate person.


Freak! I want my childhood back!

When losing a game was the worst thing I knew

 

I miss being a kid.

 

 

"I wish I could, but I can't"