Thoughts I Hate to Think

I guess the tears really flow when I get to thinking. I never think of anything too vaguely, because to make the memories stick, I have to remember the details. I'm a sucker for details. That night I found my oldest brother OD'd on the floor in his room, I remembered everything. I can still tell you the time on the clock (eleven-o-clock pm), the smell in the room (vomit, sour), and the look on my brother's face. He almost looked serene.

I guess by now you've realized that my life isn't the easy thing in the world. My parents are divorced, my brother is dead, and my older sister is in jail for armed robbery. Growing up, I dropped out of school early because I had a baby who later died in a fiery car crash near my house.

I don't like thinking about it. My life, I mean. Every time I sit down and let my mind wander I seem to dwell on something in my past, something I don't want to know or see or remember.

My brother's death. The death of my baby. The day my parents got divorced. My best friend telling me she hated me. The day I caught my boyfriend cheating on me with my enemy. The day my sister went to jail.

But if I really think about it, that is my life. There is nothing more, no more foundation. I'm just this girl trapped up in a messed up dream. It's not reality, it can't be. Could God honestly force this much pain and trauma on a young girl, only fifteen years old? I've seen so much death and dying in my life that the thought of getting killed doesn't even trouble me like it used to.

Yes, I cry a lot, but doesn't everyone? I mean, when Mandy told me she hated me, after six years of being best friends, I cried. When I found Todd kissing Luci in the hallway, I cried. Crying is easy.

I used to have a great friend that I could cry to any time I wanted to, but he found out a dreadful secret about me, that I used to like him, and now he won't even talk to me, won't even come near me. It's depressing in a way to know that nobody in this whole world, on the face of this whole dumb planet cares about me.

These thoughts I hate to think just keep coming back, day after day, week after week, month after month, and every so often new thoughts join them. I'm ugly. I'm fat. I must be stupid, since I'm getting bad grades in this class. My life sucks, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

All I can do for now is try to block out these thoughts, these thoughts that I hate to think.