Channel Surfing

Fri, 07/24/2015 - 02:10 -- BreeV

Power On.

 

Channel One: A little girl plays outside, kickball, with her neighbors. 

They laugh and run. 

The sky starts to get dark,

Curfew. 

She wants to finish the round; it’s her turn to kick. 

Her dad calls her in. 

She ignores it. 

He comes out to get her.

She screams and cries as he drags her back inside. 

Later, she’ll have bruises on her arms.  Small and undetectable, but there nonetheless.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

A little girl locks herself in her room and cries until she thinks she’ll break.

She wonders what it would feel like to cut herself.

The next day, in the school bathroom, she’ll try it.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

Flashes of a boy’s hands on a girl’s skin.

They’re in the parking lot across from her house, you know that one by the pool.

They’re in his car, the white one, kind of boxy, with the automatic seatbelts she never figured out.

It’s the boy with the messenger bag, who takes her up on catwalks, who helps her,

Who pushes her limits, who quells her fears, who takes her to his room and touches her there too.

She doesn’t like him touching her but he says she likes it, so maybe she’ll understand it later.

She will understand, but not in the way she wants to.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

A tear-stained suicide note, three pages long.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

Stinging wrist, long sleeves, everything is hot.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

His hands on her skin, his fingers searching.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

Yelling, fighting, doors slamming.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

Hospitalization. Betrayal. But whose? Whose betrayal? Who betrayed who?

 

Click. New Channel.

 

Laughter.

She tried to do something serious, she really put her heart in it.

Laughter.

She wanted to be loved.

Laughter.

She accomplished something cool, something impressive.

Laughter.

Try new things.

Laughter.

Laughter.

Laughter, haunting, chasing her down the hallways.

 

Click. New Channel.

 

She runs away.

Where can she go when no one cares?

She fails at everything and so she left.

But she failed at that too.

No one loved her, no one understood

How much life hurt her.

 

Click. New Channel.

His hand on her wrist.

She did something wrong.

She made him mad; it was her fault, she knew.

She knew he hated getting like that, especially around her, and it was her fault.

Always her fault.

Anger.

Bruises.

Concerned friends, their words ignored.

Click. New Channel.

He drinks.

He says it’s not a problem.

Click.

Rage.

Click.

Drugs.

Click.

Sex.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

I can’t breathe.

Click.

He says he’d die without her.

Click.

She stayed.

Click.

Why’d she stay?

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

There’s no room for air.

Click.

He told her he loved her.

How could he hurt her?

How could she hurt him?

Click. New Channel.

New Channel.

New Channel.

Click.

Click.

Click.

All she wanted was love.

Click. New Channel.

Click. New Channel.

There is no escape.

Click.

Cuts.

Click.

Pain, tears, scissors in one hand, her life in the other

Click. New Channel.

New Channel.

New Channel.

New Channel.

Click.

Click.

Can’t get out.

Click. New Channel.

Click. New Channel.

Click.

Suicide.

Click.

Cease to exist.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Fall into the abyss.

Click.

It’s easy to die.

Click.

Breathing is too hard.

Click. New Channel.

Click.

Static.

 

Click.

 

Static.

Click.

 

 

Power Off.

This poem is about: 
Me

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