There’s a story here, somewhere buried deep,
of a girl afraid of what she’s seen.
She didnt know how to live.
She didnt know how to think.
She didnt know how to be,
so please be kind when dealing with me.
Thoughts are second,
and words come first.
Emotions are hidden,
and shes been lost
too many times and too many ways.
She will always come back at her own pace,
and she does it a lot more often these days.
So she’ll be back.
She’ll be here.
And she will be there for you always dear.
The notes were from a good night. An entire pile of memories from an amazing summer. A summer that ended so abruptly. The notes and pieces of flower decorations became the memories of the disaster. They now carried with them thoughts of thrashing, screaming, and glass shattering. They now represent what had been lost. What I once had. They remind me of the betrayal. They remind me of the people who said they would be there forever. But their idea of forever stopped when the first thin went wrong. The notes remind me of friends who weren’t friends and warm summer nights.
I try to focus on the good now.
©C. O’Connor
The Rant 