“You’ve been acting awful tough lately…”


The twilight hung heavily over our heads as we made our way over to Jimmy’s party. We walked closely together, your hand lightly brushing mine. I could smell your lilac perfume and your leather jacket. I could already taste your cigarette smoke tongue and your raspberry lipgloss. I could hear our foot steps beat the pavement below our feet. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. Just walking next to you, hearing you hum an old song by the Smiths under your breath and breathing in your Marlboro cigarette.

You remind me of home, in a sort of twisted way. My mother used to spray that same lilac perfume and my father used to wear a very similar jacket. The house would be alive with the melancholy music of Morrissey. Zac, my brother, would teach me how to play the guitar and Marina, my sister, would force me to play Barbies with her. But now thats over and down with. Dad left and with him he took the lilac perfume, the jacket, the music, the guitar, and the Barbies.

Mom mainly sleeps. Normally with a lit cigarette in her hand and a snot covered tissue stuck to her face. Zac stumbles into the house late in the night and early in the morning, smelling sickly of weed , urine, and stale beer. Marina goes out with men ten years older than her. They buy her expensive things and they make her moan for maybe five minutes.

I just hang out at the record store or the burger joint or gas station now. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with you or Jimmy. Sometimes I’ll get into fights with the other local boys. Sometimes they make me bleed. And sometimes I like it. The blood and the pain. It takes my mind off of my father, my mother, my brother, my sister. But it never takes the thoughts of you away.

“Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately…”


Voices and loud punk music vibrated through Jimmy’s house. I’m not used to so many people and such loud music. I’m the town’s token weird kid. The kid thats voted most likely to go on a deranged killing spree. Not the kid who willingly infects his liver with vodka and his lungs with smoke. I heard my heart beat wildly in my ears as people stared at us. As if they’re eyes were saying “Why is he with her? She’s too good for him.”

I felt your hand slip into mine and pull me into the living room. It was even louder in there. I never liked loud music. There is just no need for it to be that obnoxious. Have some respect for other people. And the people, God, the people. You wouldn’t feel the need to talk so loudly if you’d just turn down the music.

You like to tease me about these things. You call me a teenaged anomaly. And I like it. Everyone else- my teachers, my family, and even Jimmy- skirt around me like I’m a bomb about to go off. But not you. You treat me like a person, not a weapon of mass destruction. You’re not afraid to tease. You’re not afraid to hold my hand. I am so grateful for your bravery.

You pull another cigarette out of your pack and light it. There were several other people idling around smoking as well. Half of the people smelled more like weed than cigarettes and it made me uncomfortable. But then I would feel your hand in mine and I’d look at your smiling face and loosen up. Its amazing how just your presence could do that. You turn to me and say something. I could barely hear you.

You smile again and stand on the balls of your feet. Your shortness adds to your beauty. You put your lips to my ear and whisper. A pleasant shiver rolls up and down my spine. With just a few words you put my mind in a lovely place.

“You’ve been hanging with the unloved kids…”


We’re sitting on the living room floor. You and Jimmy are drunk. I’m perfectly sober. I can’t help but think of how beautiful you are drunk. You smile ear to ear and you clutch the whiskey bottle closely to your chest, as if your life will end if you let it go. Jimmy takes a drag off his joint and passes it around. I watch it pass from person to person. Half fearing, half hoping it would reach me.

About half the people left already and only a few people stayed. Either because their friends took away their car keys or because they were hoping they would get laid. I stayed for you. You were having too much fun and I didn’t want to be the one to end it. Besides, I enjoyed watching you and Jimmy drunkenly argue about women’s rights.

Looking around the room, I notice how lonely all the girls look and how desperate all the boys seem. These people might never know what it feels like to look at someone like you and just know that everything will be alright. Some will be pulled into abusive relationships. Some will die of a heroin overdose at a bus station. Some will slit their wrists in their bathtubs. Some will get 20 cats and think that qualifies as love. I feel bad for them.

Even when you’re drunk, you notice that I am more concerned with the people around me than I am with myself. You catch my eye right away and smile. Then you crawl over to me and plant a big, whiskey flavored kiss on my lips. I could get drunk your kiss alone.

I hear Jimmy whistle and make cat calls in the background and all the party guests laugh. You laugh along, like you always do. As you laugh I notice that you too look lonely. Your face blurred into the rest of the girls. I see tears well up in your jade green eyes. I forgot, you’re an emotional drunk.

“Who you’ve never really liked and you’ve ever trusted”


The mid-May air chilled outside. You hugged your chest and cried. I put my arm around you and walked you home. You repeat the story I’ve heard so many times. How your dad touched you and your mom didn’t believe you when you told her. How you blamed yourself when he took his own life three years ago. How screwed up you are now.

It sounds sick, but I think I love you more every time you tell me this story. You are brutally honest. You are cold and lonely. You try to find acceptance in liquor and marijuana, instead you found it in me. We stop under a street light and I kiss you. Your mouth tastes like cigarettes, alcohol, and puke. It tastes like love.

”I hate this town.” You say when I pull away.

I look down at you, surprised that, out of all the things you could say, you chose to say that.

”I hate school. I hate my mom. I hate whiskey and gin and vodka and beer. I hate weed and ecstasy and crack. I hate this stupid leather jacket and these stupid boots. I hate these people, these robots. I hate Jimmy,” you look me dead in the eye as you say this last part. “And I hate you.”

The words burn me like acid. I didn’t know what to say. I never know what to say. Just a few hours ago we walked into a party holding hands. Just a few hours ago we kissed in the center of a ring of depressed teenagers. Just a few hours ago you whispered you love me. How can feelings change so suddenly?

Tears were falling in heavy drops from your eyes. They resembled green rain clouds. My mouth went dry as your hateful stare fixed on me. Your raven hair was a mess and a little bit of bile stained your chin. And yet, you still looked beautiful. You still dazzled me with every movement. I still longed for the feeling of your lips against mine.

You turn on your heels and run away. Away from me, this town, these people, this life. The only thing you left behind was the taste of your mouth and the phantom scent of your perfume.

The early morning sun rose steadily and, for the first time, I realized that without you, I am just another robot.