come together

i'm clenching my fists, knuckles white, as i sit on the linoleum floor. i'm trying to think of my story. my reason. my failure. i've decided my family friend died. my close family friend. lisa, if she asks, but she won't. i think i feel tears in the corners of my eyes. i want there to be something to show how i'm affected. tears. spit. blood.

i'm thinking of blood wiped under my eyes like a football player and that i'd have to think of a whole new story. one that required rape in the common or rough sex resulting in an eye injury. i don't want to explain penetration. i stick with story #1.

i can tell she's aggrivated. she lets me go and i don't really feel relieved but i feel better. out of the exam. out of the class. out on the street. i drink a fancy vitamin water and talk to the squirrels on my way home. 
¶ 6:05 PM |