Lies in My Head
I am sorry. I have been regretful for the most part of my life. Constantly dreading what tomorrow will bring because I don’t know what’s going to happen. Sometimes I feel like my life is a reception of lies where the truth seems to lay hidden in maze. I can’t seem to find my way back to that time when I knew who I was. Nevertheless, I got to hither and yon in search for an answer to my many questions.
My insecurities keep me perplexed and oppressed while I stare at myself in the mirror. I ponder why I haven’t met the right guy. Why can’t I be the beautiful one instead of the hot girl’s friend? I just want to be in love with somebody. People tell me to be myself and I’ll find somebody, but I’m 21 and never been on date, never been kissed, and never had a boyfriend. In my head, the word, ugly, swarms my mind causing my heart to explode with pain. The tears run down my face like waterfalls and I fall to my knees like in a dramatic scene in a love flick. I’m not a drinker but when I get like this the two Bacardi Mojito wine coolers sit nicely in my stomach, warm.
Passed out in my bed, I wake up to the sound of pots in the kitchen. Mother must be making dinner about now. This depression has me confined to filthy clothes, messy dry hair, and ghastly breath. I spend most of my time in my head rambling on about the many things that are wrong with my life. I seriously need to get out of my head! I get these sick thoughts in my mind like thinking somebody is monitoring my every move so that they could manipulate me. I am crazy, right?! Late at night, when hormones are at their climax I fantasize about an unidentified man in my head. In my dreams, I dance with the devil and drink with the demons. They tell me, “just be pretty but naïve and anything you hear is what you believe.”
Black circles around my eyes because I can no longer sleep. My mind keeps haunting me with the lies that keep me a prisoner in the unknown. I grind my teeth and try to fight this corruption with a twist of my tongue, I challenge my mind. I find myself again looking at myself in the mirror but I don’t recognize the person looking back at me. It’s the coming before the storm and death lies in my bed undressed and says, “Just be pretty but naïve and anything you hear is what you believe.” So begrudgingly, I succumb to the lies in my head.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Short Story 3: Loveless in New Jersey
Loveless in New Jersey
People come. People go. I've come to make up excuses for the lack of a social life. Some people may categorize me as being just shy. I’m not really shy. I am perfectly able to articulate and express my thoughts. However, sometimes I just get these severe panic attacks or get really excited for no apparent reason. It just gets so awkward and frustrating when I get that way. I hate to blush so I get all mad when I think a guy is cute because I can't and don't take rejection well. Then, of course, this pet peeve of mine backfires and then guys think I’m mean.
High school was a nightmare but I guess thousands maybe millions of people will agree with my sentiments. I never felt like I belonged because I was so different. I didn't have money to keep up with the latest trends, so obviously I wasn't "cool." I had acquaintances not friends. Guys didn't find me attractive and reminded me of it every day. They called me "ugly, monster, monkey, he-she", and many other cruel names. I've always been insecure though. All the guys I've ever liked since my first crush in 4th grade have rejected me. Sad, right? I'm 21 and never been on a date or had a boyfriend. Infinite humiliation, pain, and anger that weighs my heart down like an elephant on a string. I can blame it on my father who never let me hang out with boys; hence my inability to interact with them and understand them. I can blame myself for letting myself be influenced by his ignorance.
I should have, I would have, I could have but I never did anything. I let myself be socially oppressed by the ignorant beliefs of my father. I don't even talk to my father; he's a stranger to me. I know that he was just trying to be a good father and keep me out of trouble, but the consequences of his strict discipline emotionally scarred me. I don't let anybody in because I've been hurt too many times. I have no real good friends so I have to hang out with my sixteen year old sister. How pathetic?! I cry about it all the time. Many times I have contemplated suicide only to realize my own cowardice. I haven't changed much since becoming a young adult; I think I've gotten more unfavorable.
I get mad at myself for liking a guy because the fear of humiliation and rejection torments me. There are contacts on my phone but they rarely call me. I'm the fool always calling hoping for an invitation to party, movies, something... People come and go out our lives everyday. Some we cherish, others we forget, and some just linger. Many people have come and gone out my life and I have yet to cherish one. Loveless in New Jersey-that's my headline. I got troubled thoughts and the low self-esteem to match. What a catch.
People come. People go. I've come to make up excuses for the lack of a social life. Some people may categorize me as being just shy. I’m not really shy. I am perfectly able to articulate and express my thoughts. However, sometimes I just get these severe panic attacks or get really excited for no apparent reason. It just gets so awkward and frustrating when I get that way. I hate to blush so I get all mad when I think a guy is cute because I can't and don't take rejection well. Then, of course, this pet peeve of mine backfires and then guys think I’m mean.
High school was a nightmare but I guess thousands maybe millions of people will agree with my sentiments. I never felt like I belonged because I was so different. I didn't have money to keep up with the latest trends, so obviously I wasn't "cool." I had acquaintances not friends. Guys didn't find me attractive and reminded me of it every day. They called me "ugly, monster, monkey, he-she", and many other cruel names. I've always been insecure though. All the guys I've ever liked since my first crush in 4th grade have rejected me. Sad, right? I'm 21 and never been on a date or had a boyfriend. Infinite humiliation, pain, and anger that weighs my heart down like an elephant on a string. I can blame it on my father who never let me hang out with boys; hence my inability to interact with them and understand them. I can blame myself for letting myself be influenced by his ignorance.
I should have, I would have, I could have but I never did anything. I let myself be socially oppressed by the ignorant beliefs of my father. I don't even talk to my father; he's a stranger to me. I know that he was just trying to be a good father and keep me out of trouble, but the consequences of his strict discipline emotionally scarred me. I don't let anybody in because I've been hurt too many times. I have no real good friends so I have to hang out with my sixteen year old sister. How pathetic?! I cry about it all the time. Many times I have contemplated suicide only to realize my own cowardice. I haven't changed much since becoming a young adult; I think I've gotten more unfavorable.
I get mad at myself for liking a guy because the fear of humiliation and rejection torments me. There are contacts on my phone but they rarely call me. I'm the fool always calling hoping for an invitation to party, movies, something... People come and go out our lives everyday. Some we cherish, others we forget, and some just linger. Many people have come and gone out my life and I have yet to cherish one. Loveless in New Jersey-that's my headline. I got troubled thoughts and the low self-esteem to match. What a catch.
Short Story 2: The Perfect Happy Family
The Perfect Happy Family
People in my town assume that we are this perfect happy family because my father is this big shot doctor who married a supermodel and had two beautiful, popular, and smart children. However, things are never what they seem. We might be the “Joneses” but we are definitely not this perfect happy family.
Father may be this successful doctor who’s married to a former supermodel, but at night he dresses like a woman and smokes pot. Mother is a former supermodel who walked the catwalks of France, London, Italy, and New York. She also graced the cover of numerous fashion magazines. Now she cheats on her husband with various men from our neighborhood, which can be presumed to be also married. My brother, the popular football captain, is secretly a homosexual. He sneaks out to gay clubs on Friday nights to have sex with other men and also do drugs. He can never tell my parents because they will disown him and kick him out. If people knew what he was; his life would be over. I’m the normal one, I suppose. I mean I have my secrets but nothing overly-dramatic.
I know my family’s secrets but they are oblivious to each other. They keep up appearances, as do I, because we can’t afford to unveil our disguise. Smiles pasted on our faces like dummies we greet the neighbors and share neighborhood gossip. We buy and stay up with the latest trends. We drive expensive cars, use high-tech phones, and wear designer clothes. Nevertheless, behind closed doors each of us falls into our own darkness. My parents haven’t slept in the same room since I was 9. I’m 17 now.
Come Christmas time, we will throw our annual Christmas party with all its glamour. Father will joke around with the other suburban fathers; while planning to borrow my mother’s Manolo Blahniks for tonight’s rendezvous. Mother would be gossiping to the other suburban housewives about the latest neighborhood scandal; while contemplating whose husband she would have sex with tonight. My brother would be making out with an unidentified man in his room and nobody would know. That is if no one yet again wants to praise him for winning the championship game. A picture will be taken of us together with our pasted dummy smiles while the other families envy my “perfect happy family.” The camera man aims and we say, “Cheese!”
People in my town assume that we are this perfect happy family because my father is this big shot doctor who married a supermodel and had two beautiful, popular, and smart children. However, things are never what they seem. We might be the “Joneses” but we are definitely not this perfect happy family.
Father may be this successful doctor who’s married to a former supermodel, but at night he dresses like a woman and smokes pot. Mother is a former supermodel who walked the catwalks of France, London, Italy, and New York. She also graced the cover of numerous fashion magazines. Now she cheats on her husband with various men from our neighborhood, which can be presumed to be also married. My brother, the popular football captain, is secretly a homosexual. He sneaks out to gay clubs on Friday nights to have sex with other men and also do drugs. He can never tell my parents because they will disown him and kick him out. If people knew what he was; his life would be over. I’m the normal one, I suppose. I mean I have my secrets but nothing overly-dramatic.
I know my family’s secrets but they are oblivious to each other. They keep up appearances, as do I, because we can’t afford to unveil our disguise. Smiles pasted on our faces like dummies we greet the neighbors and share neighborhood gossip. We buy and stay up with the latest trends. We drive expensive cars, use high-tech phones, and wear designer clothes. Nevertheless, behind closed doors each of us falls into our own darkness. My parents haven’t slept in the same room since I was 9. I’m 17 now.
Come Christmas time, we will throw our annual Christmas party with all its glamour. Father will joke around with the other suburban fathers; while planning to borrow my mother’s Manolo Blahniks for tonight’s rendezvous. Mother would be gossiping to the other suburban housewives about the latest neighborhood scandal; while contemplating whose husband she would have sex with tonight. My brother would be making out with an unidentified man in his room and nobody would know. That is if no one yet again wants to praise him for winning the championship game. A picture will be taken of us together with our pasted dummy smiles while the other families envy my “perfect happy family.” The camera man aims and we say, “Cheese!”
Short Story 1: Necessary
Necessary
It is necessary. That was my mother’s favorite word. She said it to me so many times that I believe it was actually my first word. It was not the common baby words like “momma” or “dada”, but necessary.
“It is necessary that you keep your back straight when you walk, Katherine. Good posture is key.” She would say. One of the many necessary things that she sought to instill in me. My mother was a lovely woman but sometimes I just wanted to strangle her. She was strong and sophisticated. She walked with that strong essence with her back straight and head held up high, “like a woman should walk.” She owned her own business and raised three girls all by herself because father died when I was born. Mother said his heart gave out and so he never got to meet his baby girl, me.
I am the baby of the family, as well as, the black sheep of the family. I suppose that’s why mother lectured me the most about what was necessary. So when mother was diagnosed with cancer, I couldn’t believe how such a strong vibrant woman could become so fragile and pale. She still scolded me though.
“It is necessary that you get a real job, find a good man that loves you, and have some kids, Katherine.” Her eyes piercing mine as she said this. Her voice was stern but yet delicate. I knew that she only wanted the best for me, but all I wanted was to be a musician. My other two sisters, Sarah and McKenzie, were married, had children, and successful careers. I was still pursuing my music career.
In her last moments, she asked to be with me alone. I thought she was going to instruct me once more on how to live my life and I dreaded it. I sat beside her by her hospital bed looking into her hazel eyes as tears ran down her face. Her golden brown hair lay messy around her pillow. “I only wanted the best for you-you are my baby girl. I will love you no matter what-you know that, Katherine.” Her voice cracked and she seemed to fade from reality.
“Please mom don’t go!” I heard myself scream at her, but she was gone. I just sat there crying with my back straight (as she so instructed) because good posture is key, but at that moment to the contrary it was so unnecessary.
It is necessary. That was my mother’s favorite word. She said it to me so many times that I believe it was actually my first word. It was not the common baby words like “momma” or “dada”, but necessary.
“It is necessary that you keep your back straight when you walk, Katherine. Good posture is key.” She would say. One of the many necessary things that she sought to instill in me. My mother was a lovely woman but sometimes I just wanted to strangle her. She was strong and sophisticated. She walked with that strong essence with her back straight and head held up high, “like a woman should walk.” She owned her own business and raised three girls all by herself because father died when I was born. Mother said his heart gave out and so he never got to meet his baby girl, me.
I am the baby of the family, as well as, the black sheep of the family. I suppose that’s why mother lectured me the most about what was necessary. So when mother was diagnosed with cancer, I couldn’t believe how such a strong vibrant woman could become so fragile and pale. She still scolded me though.
“It is necessary that you get a real job, find a good man that loves you, and have some kids, Katherine.” Her eyes piercing mine as she said this. Her voice was stern but yet delicate. I knew that she only wanted the best for me, but all I wanted was to be a musician. My other two sisters, Sarah and McKenzie, were married, had children, and successful careers. I was still pursuing my music career.
In her last moments, she asked to be with me alone. I thought she was going to instruct me once more on how to live my life and I dreaded it. I sat beside her by her hospital bed looking into her hazel eyes as tears ran down her face. Her golden brown hair lay messy around her pillow. “I only wanted the best for you-you are my baby girl. I will love you no matter what-you know that, Katherine.” Her voice cracked and she seemed to fade from reality.
“Please mom don’t go!” I heard myself scream at her, but she was gone. I just sat there crying with my back straight (as she so instructed) because good posture is key, but at that moment to the contrary it was so unnecessary.
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