I’m in my bedroom. I’m sitting on my bed.

I can’t help but think about you, and how perfect we would be together.

I know you’re way too good for me.

I hear the doors slam, voices scream.

I know I have other worries.

They’re fighting again.

I want to go away.

I do not have a girl like figure.

I hate my laugh.

I’m thinking of how good it would feel to have friends.

I’m alone.

I have never hurt myself on purpose.

But I think about it. And I think about

What it would be like,

And what it would do to me.

They’re still fighting.

I want to leave.

He slaps her.

She shoves him away.

They won’t shut up,

Will not stop.

I don’t want to be here.

I creep out to the garage, unnoticed.

I can hear them fighting.

Even from all the way out here.

I’m going to leave.

There’s a bike.

It’s a motorcycle.

It’s mine.

It will be mine. 

I don’t know how to ride.

I’m going to leave.

They don’t have a clue.

Up and over, turn and lift.

It’s on.

It’s backing out. It’s running.

I shift the gears.

I’m barely tall enough to reach.

It’s loud. I pull the right handle down. I’m off.

In the mirror I see them come out of the house.

She collapses. He just stares.

I’m gone.

Going fast.

Not slowing down. I’m out on the road.

I’m all wobbly.

I can’t stop. I’m too scared to stop.

Red light. I can’t stop.

I can’t stop. Can’t stop.

I speed up. I go head-on into the middle of traffic.

I can’t stop.

I crash.

They’re not fighting right now. Not that I can hear.

Face up. I see blue. Turn I see red. I see gray. I see nothing.

I hear horns. I hear screams. Voices. Sirens.

I hear nothing.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.08.2011

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Widmung:
This is dedicated to anyone who has ever been a victim to hearing argument after argument after fight after fight between their parents.