Girl In Pieces
Kathleen GlaslowGirl In Pieces Sözleri ve Alıntıları
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He reaches out and takes my hand. I try to pull it away, but he grips it tight. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Charlie. Not one thing. Can’t you see that?” But that’s a lie, isn’t it? Because there are so many things wrong with me, obviously and actually. What I want Mikey to say is: There are so many things wrong with you and it doesn’t matter. I have one hand on the stone in my pocket and the other one trapped in Mikey’s grasp. What I want to tell him is: You left once, and look what happened, and now you’re leaving again, and I’m scared, because I don’t know how to be with people, but I don’t know how to be alone, either, and I thought I wasn’t going to be alone again here. And how is it even possible to be more hurt than I’ve been in the past year? But all I say is “I’ll miss you, Mikey. I’ll be okay. I promise"
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There is being alone, and then there is being a l o n e. They are not the same thing at all.
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her scars are all on the inside, along with her people
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Cutting is a fence you build upon your own body to keep people out but then you cry to be touched. But the fence is barbed. What then?
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She tells me she was flipped on crack and working at an A&P. She says, My whole body was electric, like all I could think about was getting out of there, going back to my shit apartment and cutting and how much better I would feel, how I’d be able to forget this piece of shit job. She worked faster and faster, trying to get all the cereal boxes on the shelves, organized and price-stamped. She was sweating, using her purple smock to wipe her face, when she started to hear laughter. “Like, the store itself was laughing at me. The cereal boxes, the price-stamper, the fucking loading cart, the lights. The things in the grocery store were laughing at my stupid ass. Like, now even inanimate objects knew what a fucked-up asshole I was.” Her face is splotchy and her eyes are wet. “And I knew then, right then, that I was going to go home and kill myself. And. Here. I. Am.” From the other bed, I can hear Louisa breathing. She’s awake, listening. Blue pins those wet eyes on me and takes a deep breath. “The moral of the story, Charlie, is this: Don’t let the cereal eat you. It’s only a fucking box of cereal, but it will eat you alive if you let it."
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“The world is so fucking awful sometimes and then you have to really start thinking, what’s my role in this awfulness? Did I make some of this awful?”
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I can’t be myself I can’t be myself —Elliott Smith, “Needle in the Hay”
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Years ago, I didn’t want to write the story of my scars, or the story of being a girl with scars, because it is hard enough being a girl in the world, but try being a girl with scars on your skin in the world.
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I remember the stars that night. They were like salt against the sky, like someone spilled the shaker against very dark cloth. That mattered to me, their accidental beauty. The last thing I thought I might see before I died on the cold, wet grass.
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“Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.” “Because when everything is said and done, Charlotte, the world runs on kindness. It simply has to, or we’d never be able to bear ourselves. It might not seem so to you now, but it will when you’re older.”
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