ginger ale will set us free

long so it’s under a cut. inspired by passages from extremely loud and incredibly close by jonathan safran foer.

I couldn’t tell her that I haven’t had a drink in months, that I smoke because the burning end of the cigarette is the only thing that keeps me from burning holes in my skin, it burns my throat going down but you can’t see the scar it leaves,  I didn’t say that I would trade everything I’ve ever touched or wanted for the friends she wields like rubber bands on a wrist, instead I opened an old notebook and over months of poetry I wrote I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself , my own name felt like sand in my mouth and I started to forget who I was and I wrote I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate Lucy I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her, ink from my pen smeared across the pages and across my palms, I could write it a thousand times and it would never be enough, my mother called “Lucy!”  for dinner and what is that, that sound and I don’t know who she is, haven’t eaten in the past week anyway, and god everything I’d give to feel less alone, the money in my mother’s bank account, it’s just numbers on a screen, so many zeroes, I’d give them all up to live in a crowded shack because at least we’d be crowded, there are so many zeroes after everything we’ve done, and I couldn’t tell her that I hate this house, I hate that all we do is stare at the TV mindlessly, and eat for hours, and look out the window but never leave, and crush bugs in between our fingertips, and sleep, and swim until our skin wrinkles, I rubbed at the ink until I hate her looked like I love her and I want to be with her forever, and I went to bed thinking if I don’t spend my life with Lucy she’ll always be alone.