The Grave I've Dug

I've dug a grave for myself.

A deep one, mind you.

Sometimes I sit back and wonder, how I got myself where I am today. And no one answers me. Right now, I don't think God exists. Even after all the things Peggie told me about the diamond and the seat, really. I don't sense it. Or I wouldn't have landed myself here at SJ Willis, with people who can't even speak english properly, screwing up my day.

And what have I done to my dad? Yeah. I fucked up. Bad time.

He asked me if I was happier than a red ant I pointed out earlier on in the garden. I asked him what did he think. He told me that he ain't me, so he wouldn't know. And I told him I ain't the ant, I wouldn't know how the ant was feeling to compare it to me.

And as I walked up towards the front door, I saw him looking at me as he stood in the grass. I sighed, and told him, "I'm not happy. I don't know how I got myself where I am today."

And when I stepped through the door, I thought to myself, "Good God what have you done Jean?"

"Shit."

You know, now sometimes I think my sis isn't the one killing the family.

It's me.

Black, white, and gray.

Sometimes, I ask God or myself, "Why the fuck me?"
Then this irritating, shrill, puny voice would shriek, "Why the fuck not?"

Praise the lord. The voice contradicts!

I've seen what a family is capable of, and incapable of. When they're capable, everything is fine.And when they're incapable, well. Divorce papers are filed. Custody is fought over. What more is there to say?

I live in the world where you're either standing with both feet in black, both feet in white, or both feet in gray. And if you decide that you won't stand in any of those colors, you can start digging your grave.

Shit happens. Like seriously. You can be preparing for a concert, so nervous but confident at the same time. Then whoosh - a phone call and everything shatters. Just like my sister. Then there's my parents, who are literally on the verge of breaking down. Well, they had the daughter. So who's fault was it? You can't blame it on Hannah, my sis, but then who else would you blame for not looking left and right before crossing the road? "Well she was in school, a car crash in school doesn't happen that often." - says you. Do I look like I give a crap? Because of the damned accident, my family's in pieces, owned to the very last blood cell in their body, and striving to stay alive. Now. Who's fault is it again?

I think people are born standing in white. Then because of their oh so very ignorant curiosity, they step over to gray, just to see what black is like. The smart ones usually put both feet down in the gray. Think. Then decide what to do. The stupid ones take a look, sees which one looks better, pulls down their pants and marks their territory. Well. Don't you see that resemblance?

Then there's being screwed. Or screwed over. The world works like this: you're either the screwer, or you're screwed. You're either one of them, and you can be both at the same time. The screwer screws the screwed. The end.

And nowadays I look out in the night sky. Shit those stars are huge! And they move! Fuck it's a damn airplane. Yeah. That tells you how much this world has done to itself. No more stars. Fuck.