1.18

Strawberry

6 hours left.

She had gotten the cheer leading team to leave notes in my locker, little birdies of hate knew how to fly far.

I ignored them, and they ignored me, our simple equilibrium.

There was a method to the madness, a way to survive the halls for as long as I had.

Prom was going to be one of the last things I do, before graduation.

I studied for the tests and had passed them all.

I applied for the musical art institute in New York, far away from my apparent home.

It was a chance to start over, our final parting of ways.

"She a faggot."

"She's so ugly."

"She's so stupid."

Right from her strawberry lips, greeting my skin like acid, tempting to melt the skin away.

But prom is right around the corner, and I shall do as I see fit.

For my queen, for my princess, for my everything.

For me.