UNFINISHED- just a start...

Falling was something I had gotten really good at.1

I was always crashing into something, bruising my elbows, my arms, my legs. Little bruises that dotted my skin, covering my stark whiteness with blessed contrast. They called me clumsy and hasty and wreckless, all with a sneer. I enjoyed having the bruises, they taught me that I was human, I felt things, I was real.2

I was just a girl with a banged up head. There was nothing really wrong with me, but nothing was really right with me either. Besides my penchant for getting myself hurt I wasn't known for anything. I was just there. A face to forget in a crowd. I was one of the background people you saw once and forgot about. I think I was ok with it. The idea of being superb at something, so much so that recognition would be inevitable, kind if scared me. But I guess in my own way I'm important. Everyone wants to be important right?3

I lived my life alone in a mirror. In my mirror I was beautiful (which was a wretched lie). The bruises were tattooed jewels, I was a princess child.4

I was a filthy liar.5

I stumbled through the crowded city with it's claustrophobic buildings and impressive skyline that only looked pretty from far away. I watched the people and how they didn't watch me. Each person was in their own bubble, in a tiny beam of light that shone only on them. They wanted nothing of me.6

I watched as an old lady touched the petals of a flower sitting in a section of manufactured nature. Her face lit up, a toothless grin apparent to anyone who happened to notice. This made me so sad, there were only one patch of flowers in all of this city. The rest had been paved over years ago.7

I wondered how I could possibly live here. But then again the city was as pretty as I was. Which was not at all.8

I went home and fell into the sticky sheets, stained with sweat and some strange man's semen from a couple nights ago. What a wild and crazy life I led, fucking to get away from the stench of loneliness. Though I should know better by now, there's no way to get too far from something that lives inside of you.9

Once upon a time I had been in a decent relationship with a boy who thought he loved me. But then he stopped calling and got busy and forgot that I existed, waiting for him on the hood of his car in the dead of winter to surprise him for his birthday. I stayed just long enough to lose the feeling in my limbs and see him drive away in a blonde barbie girl's red BMW. I'd always bruised easily, but that night I found out that I broke easily too.10

I thrashed around in my covers for a second to distract myself from that fresh stab of pain that went with remembering that damn boy and his damn car. Then I took a deep breath and resurfaced. Whatever, that was years ago, I'm a different person now.11

Maybe not a better person, but certainly a different one.12