the funsucker

"Are you kidding? You think you can be me?!" "Of course I can, Watch me.. Oh, everyone's out to get me... You're ruining my life..." "It's easy to be you.. I'll suck the fun out of everything.." "I do not suck the fun out of everything!" "Fun sucker!" "Oh, this is ridiculous." (Freaky Friday, 2003)

It was the start of a weekend trip. the type you can never get out off. where everyone just has to be virtually present. fake smile in tow, i sat there, on the back seat of our family van, waitin for mom to finish checkin stuff on our house before we could leave.

just like any other normal family, mine's made up of loving parents and happy kids. now by loving, i meant overbearing, and by happy, i meant misunderstood, so it only fits that by normal, i meant dysfunctional.

family includes parents and five siblings. two of them were toddlers, and two of em were girls roughly a few years younger than i am. and then there's me. i usually get along well with those two girlies. i'm the eldest and it takes a no-brainer to figure out that we were at that whirlwind stage of youthful angst where we consider any type of family bonding cheesy and so totally uncool. well. least i did. generally, on trips like these, the only thing worth lookin forward to is the time spent goofin around with my two dorky sisters. boy do we tease each other A LOT. 

and i could only smile at how the humorous instances we find ourselves in, 
usually results to the silliest laughtrips ever known to man.

that moment wasn't an exception.

i see, therefore i live

well here's a secret: about six years ago i tried killing myself. yeah i know, shocker. details of which are now blurred, and all i can recall is this faint memory of me lying on an E.R. stretcher with a tube up my nose all the way down to my throat. it was close to midnight and i was freezing, my teeth was chattering, and the only thing worse than that freakishly uncomfortable tube was the sight of havin your gooey insides slowly pass through it to a nearby bucket of sloshy tummy froth mostly made up of bits of dinner, indigested godknowswhat and bile. well mostly bile.

The last thing i saw before that delectably scrumptious sight, was my dad frantically pacing back and forth which i remember made me feel more woozy than i was all evening -now see this is the type of thing that's too intense for me to recount so forgive me if my retelling sucks. hey it's a sensitive subject after all- so lessee, i was on a stretcher.. nuhwait, i remember it now... pills. i raided our meds cabinet and popped every pill and tablet i could find onto my eager mouth. haha. pretty crazy, now that i remember it. 'sides i found out that you don't really die from goin berserk on 'em pills. you just damage your liver, turn yellow or sumthin and only on severe cases where treatment won't work on you that you die, not instantly, but yeah, you still die. like i said, crazy.

after takin 'em pills, i went to my room to die in peace and next thing i knew my mom was banging on my door askin for where all her headache tablets went. i didn't answer. i just wanted her to fuckn leave me alone and die.

"WHERE ARE THE PILLS CLAY?!" "

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THEM?" 
mom actually sounded more histerical than pissed that night.

explosives

Bombs. Vicious weapons of massive wanton destruction. Even its radioactive mumbo-jumbo properties are so devastating, the mere thought of it leaves one distraught, helpless, and nauseous. The Brutality. The Torture. It's only fitting they use the phrase "dropped a bomb" when someone tells you sumthin completely unexpected. that or sumthin bowel-related.
 

Harvey and I dated some years back. Longest one I had, really. He was this brash, snarky dude who somehow did have his own charm beneath all his... hostility. Long story short, he broke up with me over our "fights". Somehow, to us, the words "opposites attract" suddenly seemed like a warning for things that are to blow up,

...and things blew up indeed.

I never had anything against him. And if you know me, I'm not one to hold a grudge. To tell you the truth, I do take pride in knowin that what I had with him was -albeit, chaotic- it was truthful, accurate and authentic. Read: no third parties involved.

But this is where things get interesting. Two-three months after another break up, I found myself with Harvey. A drink night. With friends. And beer. Lots of it. Now drink nights with Harvey usually end up err... some place else, and that night wasn't an exception. Surprisingly, at one point, I caught myself tearin up. Just felt kinda lonely I guess. Post-break up and all. 

Embarrassed, I had to excuse myself and wander out back in case his friends find out I'm cryin silly and things get too awkward. I don't like when things get awkward.

So I was quietly sheddin tears on the street out back. Beside a lamp post. It was close to midnight. And there I was. Standing cold, buzzed, and feelin empty and just fuckn alone. Next thing I knew, Harvey crept beside me. Sensing the weight of his arm around my shoulder, I felt him breathe onto my ear.

"..If only I knew you'd just end up crying and hurt, I never would have let you go.”
Bam. A bit melodramatic but to be honest, yeah, it got to me.