Well, I haven't wrote anything in a while so I thought I'd listen to
Dashboard Confessional. And I got inspired.. I know this is abstract kinda.
I don't really understand it, actually. lol. It's just kinda like the rest
of all my stories ya know added what I've been feeling...so tell me what ya
think. J/H. Mostly just Hyde. Rating for some cutting/drug use.
DO YOU REMEMBER?
By: Rachelle
Her hair looked messed up, the rain looked cleansing, though her face looked shy, and it scared me. It made me wonder what I should do. Why did she just show up? What did I do to deserve this? Though it clicked.They sent her. Damnit.
"Let me in, please.." Her voice was hasty, though it was the calmest thing I've heard in awhile. I loved it. It was soothing and reminded me of old times. I sort of had a flashback in my own mind, of some time ago. We were both at our prime, having the best time of our lives. Never knowing it would turn into something as bad, and as hurtful as now. Life had sort of chewed me up, and spit me out.
She shifted her weight from one foot from the other, and looked at me in the eyes. I wasn't moving. I knew this, and I wondered why. I knew that my own body was standing here, looking like a burden. I knew she'd came all the way from Wisconsin to see me, though I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't want her in my house. I knew she wouldn't approve. I didn't want to pull up my sleeves. I didn't want to talk.
She sighed, as she looked away. Sort of up to the sky, as she wasn't sure what to say. They'd sent her here. I knew. They wanted her to look through the house. Clear all the safety hazards. Yeah, I've been through this before.
I hadn't talked for so long, I didn't know if I could. I thought now would be necessary though. It'd be the appropriate time. But I knew there were so many other appropriate times. What about all those therapy sessions? What about when they asked you if you killed that guy? What about when they asked you what happened that night?
I sort of nudged her out. "No."
The word just came out of my mouth. I didn't mean to say it, and I didn't want to say it, it just did. My voice had changed. It sounded deeper. Though scratchy, somewhat like I was sick or something. I knew it was just because I hadn't talked in so long though.
"Steven, I have to. Please, I just want to see you."
What a lie. I knew she just wanted an excuse so she could come in. She was probably thinking about it all the way here, what to say, what to do. Why didn't I just slam the door on her fucking evil face, and just leave her out in the rain? It would've worked. That's how I did Forman. I knew they sent him here too. He'd never been able to lie. He was always twitchy. Red was right. Though I knew Jackie was different. She was here, and she was mine. I felt her prescense sort of comforting, like a security blanket as a child. I wanted to hug her, bring her in, and just tell her everything. I knew I would be able to. I think I could at least. That's what I wanted. So why couldn't I?
I didn't know what to do, so unsurly I trudged in, still not saying a word.
Jackie cleared off a spot on the couch and sat down. She looked around. I knew she felt uneasy in my house. She coughed a bit, from the smoke everywhere.
I walked in the hall, and got out a towel for her. "Thank you." She replied. I nodded, as I watched her dry off her rain-drenched hair.
She looked around the house. Doing her surveying, I know. I knew it. She looked on the coffee table, and that's when I knew got her strongest reaction. She saw the blade. The old blade I'd used many of times. Next to it was a few band-aids scattered around, then blood stains on the carpet. This is where I do most of my damage. She gasped, as she ran her finger across it, gently.
"Steven...have you been using this?"
I felt like being a smart ass. I felt like being my sarcastic self, and saying something like 'Who, me? Oh no! That's for the little people who break in at night..' Though I didn't say anything. I just shrugged, as I picked up a joint beside me, and lit it up.
"Jackie, do you remember me?" I said, suprising myself, as I brought it to my lips and took a long breath.
"Don't be silly, of course I remem--" She started, though I brought up my hands to cut her off.
"No..You don't. I knew it. You don't want to remember me, right? That's what it is. Isn't it? You're ashamed from all this. You don't want to say 'Oh yeah, my boyfriend's the one who was just put in a different mental home.'. You don't want to say that, Jackie. You're ashamed. You're scared..you're scared what I'm gonna do next. You're afraid one day that the police are going to call you and say they found a suicide note under my bed, and that you were mentioned. You don't want people to know that I'm your boyfriend. You want something better. You want Kelso. You want anything but me. You know that. You remember me, but you don't want to...you don't choose to." I took a deeper longer drag of my joint, as I continued, "You just can't forget me."
She was in tears, as I looked over at her. I knew that that had hurt her, and I was proud. I was proud of that. I wanted to say it for so long. I've been thinking about what to say since the first night in the first home they'd put me in. I was glad I'd finally got it out.
After a long silence, I wasn't sure what to do next. I extended my hand out, and offered her the joint. She shook her head no. "Steven, I'm so sorry..."
She suprised me as she jumped into my arms, and hugged me. She began crying, and she smelled sweet, of coffee, and cocnuts with a mix of perfume. My arms stayed extended and my chest stayed strong--sort of like a wall. She was breaking down on me, and yet I felt nothing but hate, and anger. "You're right, I can't forget you..But I don't want to, Steven..I love you!" She wept. I wrapped my arms around her, for a second. Though I pushed her off, as I walked her to the door. "Please, go now."
She hugged her jacket around her, as her eyes looked red and bothered. She stood in the rain, as she looked up at me. She was beautiful. Prettier than anything that'd ever came into my life. I couldn't believe I once had her. What'd I ever do to deserve such a great person? I don't deserve anything. I'm not good enough for anything.
"Bye, Jackie."
"Steven.." She looked confused, and sad, as she walked toward her car, as I just stood by the dim light of my house. Coughing, my eyes glazed, my wrists scarred.
As she pulled off I felt a feeling I've never felt. Regret. I've never regretted anything in my entire life. I've always just took it out on myself. It's been an unusual situation. I didn't mind though. I just took it like the rest of my feelings. Sorted them in different piles, and just planned to deal with them later. When I was dead.
I closed my door, as a distraught Jackie pulled off, as I looked in a mirror that I'd never noticed before. It was adjacent from the door, and I stared at myself.
I was twenty now. My hair was longer, and I didn't wear my glasses much anymore. I looked much different than I was when I was seventeen, and I hated myself. How could anybody ever had liked me? I was such a hermit. I never got out of my house. Out of my own instinct, I picked up my hand and pulled it back, as I punched the mirror hard. The glass shattered, pieces falling down, cutting my arms, and my wrists. Yet, it was a feeling I was ever so familiar with.
It'll do. And one day, no one will remember me. I'll just be that guy. That guy that was wasted. The one that sold us pot. The one that spent half his life in a psychiatric ward. The one who the rich girl dated. The one who lived with the Formans after his parents abandoned him. The one who no one knew. The one who everyone will forget eventually. Just that guy. That angry angry guy...
DO YOU REMEMBER?
By: Rachelle
Her hair looked messed up, the rain looked cleansing, though her face looked shy, and it scared me. It made me wonder what I should do. Why did she just show up? What did I do to deserve this? Though it clicked.They sent her. Damnit.
"Let me in, please.." Her voice was hasty, though it was the calmest thing I've heard in awhile. I loved it. It was soothing and reminded me of old times. I sort of had a flashback in my own mind, of some time ago. We were both at our prime, having the best time of our lives. Never knowing it would turn into something as bad, and as hurtful as now. Life had sort of chewed me up, and spit me out.
She shifted her weight from one foot from the other, and looked at me in the eyes. I wasn't moving. I knew this, and I wondered why. I knew that my own body was standing here, looking like a burden. I knew she'd came all the way from Wisconsin to see me, though I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't want her in my house. I knew she wouldn't approve. I didn't want to pull up my sleeves. I didn't want to talk.
She sighed, as she looked away. Sort of up to the sky, as she wasn't sure what to say. They'd sent her here. I knew. They wanted her to look through the house. Clear all the safety hazards. Yeah, I've been through this before.
I hadn't talked for so long, I didn't know if I could. I thought now would be necessary though. It'd be the appropriate time. But I knew there were so many other appropriate times. What about all those therapy sessions? What about when they asked you if you killed that guy? What about when they asked you what happened that night?
I sort of nudged her out. "No."
The word just came out of my mouth. I didn't mean to say it, and I didn't want to say it, it just did. My voice had changed. It sounded deeper. Though scratchy, somewhat like I was sick or something. I knew it was just because I hadn't talked in so long though.
"Steven, I have to. Please, I just want to see you."
What a lie. I knew she just wanted an excuse so she could come in. She was probably thinking about it all the way here, what to say, what to do. Why didn't I just slam the door on her fucking evil face, and just leave her out in the rain? It would've worked. That's how I did Forman. I knew they sent him here too. He'd never been able to lie. He was always twitchy. Red was right. Though I knew Jackie was different. She was here, and she was mine. I felt her prescense sort of comforting, like a security blanket as a child. I wanted to hug her, bring her in, and just tell her everything. I knew I would be able to. I think I could at least. That's what I wanted. So why couldn't I?
I didn't know what to do, so unsurly I trudged in, still not saying a word.
Jackie cleared off a spot on the couch and sat down. She looked around. I knew she felt uneasy in my house. She coughed a bit, from the smoke everywhere.
I walked in the hall, and got out a towel for her. "Thank you." She replied. I nodded, as I watched her dry off her rain-drenched hair.
She looked around the house. Doing her surveying, I know. I knew it. She looked on the coffee table, and that's when I knew got her strongest reaction. She saw the blade. The old blade I'd used many of times. Next to it was a few band-aids scattered around, then blood stains on the carpet. This is where I do most of my damage. She gasped, as she ran her finger across it, gently.
"Steven...have you been using this?"
I felt like being a smart ass. I felt like being my sarcastic self, and saying something like 'Who, me? Oh no! That's for the little people who break in at night..' Though I didn't say anything. I just shrugged, as I picked up a joint beside me, and lit it up.
"Jackie, do you remember me?" I said, suprising myself, as I brought it to my lips and took a long breath.
"Don't be silly, of course I remem--" She started, though I brought up my hands to cut her off.
"No..You don't. I knew it. You don't want to remember me, right? That's what it is. Isn't it? You're ashamed from all this. You don't want to say 'Oh yeah, my boyfriend's the one who was just put in a different mental home.'. You don't want to say that, Jackie. You're ashamed. You're scared..you're scared what I'm gonna do next. You're afraid one day that the police are going to call you and say they found a suicide note under my bed, and that you were mentioned. You don't want people to know that I'm your boyfriend. You want something better. You want Kelso. You want anything but me. You know that. You remember me, but you don't want to...you don't choose to." I took a deeper longer drag of my joint, as I continued, "You just can't forget me."
She was in tears, as I looked over at her. I knew that that had hurt her, and I was proud. I was proud of that. I wanted to say it for so long. I've been thinking about what to say since the first night in the first home they'd put me in. I was glad I'd finally got it out.
After a long silence, I wasn't sure what to do next. I extended my hand out, and offered her the joint. She shook her head no. "Steven, I'm so sorry..."
She suprised me as she jumped into my arms, and hugged me. She began crying, and she smelled sweet, of coffee, and cocnuts with a mix of perfume. My arms stayed extended and my chest stayed strong--sort of like a wall. She was breaking down on me, and yet I felt nothing but hate, and anger. "You're right, I can't forget you..But I don't want to, Steven..I love you!" She wept. I wrapped my arms around her, for a second. Though I pushed her off, as I walked her to the door. "Please, go now."
She hugged her jacket around her, as her eyes looked red and bothered. She stood in the rain, as she looked up at me. She was beautiful. Prettier than anything that'd ever came into my life. I couldn't believe I once had her. What'd I ever do to deserve such a great person? I don't deserve anything. I'm not good enough for anything.
"Bye, Jackie."
"Steven.." She looked confused, and sad, as she walked toward her car, as I just stood by the dim light of my house. Coughing, my eyes glazed, my wrists scarred.
As she pulled off I felt a feeling I've never felt. Regret. I've never regretted anything in my entire life. I've always just took it out on myself. It's been an unusual situation. I didn't mind though. I just took it like the rest of my feelings. Sorted them in different piles, and just planned to deal with them later. When I was dead.
I closed my door, as a distraught Jackie pulled off, as I looked in a mirror that I'd never noticed before. It was adjacent from the door, and I stared at myself.
I was twenty now. My hair was longer, and I didn't wear my glasses much anymore. I looked much different than I was when I was seventeen, and I hated myself. How could anybody ever had liked me? I was such a hermit. I never got out of my house. Out of my own instinct, I picked up my hand and pulled it back, as I punched the mirror hard. The glass shattered, pieces falling down, cutting my arms, and my wrists. Yet, it was a feeling I was ever so familiar with.
It'll do. And one day, no one will remember me. I'll just be that guy. That guy that was wasted. The one that sold us pot. The one that spent half his life in a psychiatric ward. The one who the rich girl dated. The one who lived with the Formans after his parents abandoned him. The one who no one knew. The one who everyone will forget eventually. Just that guy. That angry angry guy...