I didn't go to school today.
Maybe I should've gone.
I'm hanging out with Christine at her place.
Everyone say "Hi Christine."
I'm just going to pretend you did.
She's laughing at me while I type this.
I don't mind it.
She says It's kind of cute the way I make up people to talk to me.
Now I mind it.
She's apologizing.
I'm saying It's fine, whatever.
She says, That's like my catch phrase.
I say, No it's not my catch phrase is I guess.
She says, Well now you have two.
I hate my life.
She asks, Why?
I say, Because I hate how my catch phrases sound unsure.
She says, Catchphrases don't have to be what you feel.
I say, Don't be such an idiot.
She says, Sorry it's how I was raised.
I say, No it's not your in like AP everything, your parents trained you well.
She says, Maybe you're right. I wish I went to Cleveland to hang out with you.
I say, Well I was supposed to go to Chatsworth so maybe it's my fault.
She says, Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have known.
I blame myself.
She asks, If I want to start drinking.
I ask, Is it me turning you into an alcoholic or do you just want to impress me?
She says, A little bit of both.
I say, You know I really am starting to like you.
She says, Finally I thought this was going to be unrequited.
I tell her, Go play the piano.
She does as instructed.
She's playing Requiem for a Dream.
It's beautiful.
She looks so serious.
Moments like this is when I want to kill her.
Looking sincere, but I see all her scars.
I see how sad she is.
I see she wants to die.
She wants me.
Poor girl..
Just like me she wants all the things she can't have.
The tempo speeds up.
She starts to smile.
She knows I am impressed.
I let out a sigh.
She sighs.
The tempo slows down.
She saddens when I do.
All her scars inside and out.
Interesting creature.
She's finished.
She starts drinking.
I know she is ruined.
I know she loves me.
She's staring at me.
She says, How else can I please you master?
She knows I like being called master.
I tell her to practice ballet.
She does as instructed.
It looks beautiful, until you see all the pain in her faces.
She stumbles.
Now she's just sitting there on the floor.
She's drinking again.
She looks like she's going to cry.
I tell her, Don't worry everyone fails.
She says, Not as much as me.
She's starting to tear up.
Could this day get any better?
I tell her, I fail much more than you trust me.
She says, All your medical problems aren't your fault, that doesn't count.
I tell her, Point being you're great at what you do, stop being so negative.
She's crying harder.
She seems to find my words of inspiration bittersweet.
She says, Why couldn't I have met you sooner?
If I had a nickle for every time I heard that.
She drinks more.
Her crying has subsided.
She pulls her sleeves down.
She says, I'm sorry I know how ugly you think my scars are.
I tell her, It's fine scars add character even if it is a dumb reason.
She says, Do you think I'm pretty.
I have to think about this.
She's staring at me.
Should I lie in this moment?
Lying would mean I care.
I guess I'll go for the truth.
What is the truth.
She does interest me highly.
She does talk to me on a regular basis.
She's completely masochistic.
I tell her, I think you're beautiful.
She looks like she's going to start shedding tears again.
I'm still hearing her piano music in my ears.
This moment feels like it should be in a movie.
Yet in this moment I am thinking of another.
I can't seem to let go.
She kisses me.
I kiss her back.
She says, That's the first time you've kissed me back.
I say, You deserve to feel happy every once and awhile.
She falls back on her couch.
I look around her living room.
I can't help but have the urge to trash it.
I look at her satisfied face.
I want to choke her.
I put a headphone in my ear.
Bathory is playing.
I guess Christine can hear it cause she's singing along.
She says, You should worship Satan with me.
I say, Only idiots, and oppressed teenagers like you worship Satan.
She says, so what you should do it too.
I say, Being an Atheist means rejection of belief in the existence of deities
She says, What's your point?
I say, God made the Devil correct?
She says, Yeah I guess so.
I say, If I don't believe in God why should I believe in one of his so called creations?
She says, Because Satan is freedom, and don't you want to sacrifice things?
I say, I can do that without worshiping some evil god.
She says, You just love ruining the fun don't you.
I say, Actually I love to have fun, but whatever I guess.
She says, There you go again!
I sigh.
The room gets quiet.
She gets closer, and noticing how long I've been doing this.
She says, You should stop.
I ask, Why no one reads this, but me.
She says, You don't know that! What if someone I know reads this.
I say, One: That's part of the fun, and Two: Are you embarrassed of me or something?
She says, No I'm not, but if my parents found out you know what happens.
I say, don't worry no one will know it's you.
She says, I hope not I'll trust you.
I say, Wise choice, how could I ever steer you wrong.
She says, I don't know yet, but who knows.
She says, You're going to have to take my virginity one day.
I laugh incredibly hard.
I say, You're going to have to drug me.
She says, It can, and will be done.
Her eyes look so serious.
She continues drinking.
I say, If we have sex you would technically be a rapist, you're eighteen now.
She says, I'm sure It'd be worth it, besides then killing myself would look right.
I say, Maybe you're right.
She says, Plus when it happens I doubt you'd report me.
She's starting to really understand me.
I chuckle a bit.
She says, Quit laughing!
She throws a couch pillow at me.
She starts to laugh.
You're dead you f*cking slut....
I throw the pillow back at her.
She laughs harder.
She says, You haven't hurt me in awhile I was getting antsy.
I say don't worry you'll get what you deserve.
She asks, Do you have therapy later today?
I say, Yup, and you have ballet recitals today.
She says, Oh my god you remembered.
I say, How could I forget you kept bugging me to go.
She asks, Are you going.
I say, Your parents know me they'll recognize me.
She says, Yeah you're right, oh well.
I say, Whatever I guess.
I realize how much I say those two phrases.
She might be right.
I sigh.
She asks, How long are you going to be doing that.
I say, I haven't been writing so this is as good as it's going to get.
She says, I'm sure that's enough to make up for it.
I say maybe she's right.
I stop for today.