Untitled

Jazmine and I would sit in the parking lot after school. & smoke cigarettes and drink our apple juice. Talk about stupid girls, and the boy who couldn’t stop leaving me. “You’re beautiful. No boy will leave you without regret” and all I could do was laugh. “I want a boy who will be gorgeous to me, and kiss me in bed and say “I love you” without hesitation when when we make love”. We would laugh at our lust for love, and  stupid girls. Now I pass jazmine in the hall-200 wing, and she waves “hi”. The only thing I can do it smile politely, and keep walking.1

I almost wrote a letter as words were rambling in my head, but I remembered Jazmine’s different now, & would forget I wrote it with meaning. & they all know where she goes- 1081 Quincy Apartments. The place where the junkies go to get there “stuff”. & sometimes I used to wonder when I would look at the picture of Jazmine and I. The one we took in 8th. Laughing continuously at the things 13 year olds laugh at not evening looking at the camera. When I look at that picture I wonder if Jazmine cares to know he came back, and how lately I get scared. Now that the doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with me. 2

& when I tell my mom about jazmine all she can say is “you never knew her in the first place, she’s always been the type to go with the wind, and change with what she comes upon. You never knew who the “real” jazmine was. I just sit with my hands in my lap. From what I’ve learned in life you can’t fight for what you believe in.3

“Jazmine who are you?” I write on a white paper with my blackest pen. I slip it in her locker between 3rd & 4th.  Wondering if she would reply if there was a return address. “I am Jazmine” she would write. & I would cross it out. & post mark back. “I am Jazmine the junkie who can’t live without the Quincy apartments, Another Junkie who needs her rocks, and makes love to a boy who will leave her one day for better fuck” The truth hurts. & I know she would crumble, and toss in the gutter as she would mumble “stupid girls.”4