Numbers Game

I haven’t been very good. I mean, there have been good things and then there have been not-so-good things, but it’s been an overall kind of bullshit mess of a time that I’ve had. It’s such a bummer that five days of good bloods can be ruined by one day of rollercoaster madness. I’ve tried to so hard but all I can do is miss you. I suppose you don’t think of me. That’s what I expected. I gave him a sedative so I know I can relax tonight, but me…? I just can’t seem to take the edge off these days. Maybe I’ll take a sedative myself. Maybe I’ll sleep it all away. Maybe that won’t work and I’ll wake up in the morning with all the lights still on and the television repeating Game Of Thrones like it’s the only thing that ever existed. 

Anyways. I read a Gabrielle Tozer. I loved it. I found something that she recommended and it was another YA, written by Claire Christian. I started it — it was called Beautiful Mess — and I was immediately disheartened. The story wasn’t a flop but the grammatical errors were NOT few and far between, and they stuck out like olives in a macaroni cheese melt. I got to the third chapter and almost put the damned thing down. 

Still, I finished it because I tend to finish most things that I start reading. I promised myself I would try to come away from the book with something. Something. In the end I couldn’t help but like her spoken word poetry formatting. You’ll have to imagine me speaking it because I will never speak it and no one will ever hear it. Here goes. 

Numbers Game

it starts with blood and it will end with blood // don’t be afraid to be yourself, they say // but the only thing I fear // is me // my body, my disease // the inevitable dessi-fucking-cation of who I am and my physical existence // and all the things that could happen to me // four-point-five I should be thankful to be alive // seventeen // why are you being so lean, lean, lenient // oh no, no no no // no doc, sir, no sir, no sir doc, I am anything but lean // nor am I lenient // twelve-point-two // I know I’m not supposed to, but I feel blue // no, scratch that // I feel black // it bears repeating // because who will listen when you’re covered in black // and the numbers don’t matter // even when the game you’re playing is a // Numbers Game // fourteen // nine-point-six // twenty-two // what will I do // when I finally realise that all of the // sharp points // and the knifelike ends // have led me down a path to nowhere // just blackness // black black black // it bears repeating // because eventually blood turns black // and it will end with blood //