4

i rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

4:38am.

we were supposed to wake up in a half hour.
the hotel room smelt of old perfume and moss. it reminded me of my childhood.

Ana slept next to me, her breaths whisping through the quiet air. Her sister sprawled out on the couch, hugging a pillow tightly. and i sat with my pj's rolled up to my knees, and stared out into the night.
the lights reached all over the city; the sky bleeding.

its thursday. tonight i will not be going home with Ana. I will not be watching a movie with her at 5am. I will not be watching her kiss the boy she loves. I wont ever see her until December 4th.

I'll be living in my best friends home without my best friend, without the one person who understands everything about me. Without any judgement and without any mockery.

I twisted my hair into knots, and cried. I cried for my lonely life, i cried for my best friend, i cried for my own mother, and i cried for my dead father. I cried for my own family that left me on the streets with $500 to my name, and i cried for the family that had nothing but kindness in their hearts.

I decided i wasnt going to sleep tonight.
Instead i read verses from the bible, tucked neatly in the hotels dresser, and watched the sky turnover.

3

I always loved Ana's family. they accepted me; more so than my own family.
they took me in when i was lost. they treat me like there own, they call me their daughter.
i was worth it in their eyes.

we ate dinner together, someplace near the hotel; only 3 or 4 blocks from the college.
Ana's mama held her hand. she kissed her forhead, 'Mi Fida..' my daughter 
she smiled and held on. she held on so tight.

i excused myself to the bathroom and heaved the dinner i had just eaten.
i sobbed into my sweatshirt and hugged myself tight.

2

the lights blocked the sky, the ignition hummed, four hours i dreamed.

2:35pm.
 i imagined the town near the sea, with small beaches and families with wives in polka dotted bathing suits and husbands with slicked hair; holding hands and kissing their only son with oily skin touching.  i imagined young girls with white shirts and dirty knees, and boys with ripped pants and red bicycles; they laughed on the boardwalks and went to penny arcades and shared shakes. like the movies, like how its supposed to be. with nothing under the sidewalks, and nothing to be nervous about. i smiled, and i thought for a moment, maybe that could be me. maybe in a few months, i could be here. maybe i can be happy, too.

6:47pm
maryland is exactly like new jersey.

there are no oceans. there are no small beaches with mothers who love their husbands and only sons; there are no dirty knees and red bicycles. there are no penny arcades, and this whole damn town is anything but what the movies had made me believe it would be.

7:12pm
Ana began to cry. She was excited to live here, she was excited to attend the college, she was excited to leave. I leaned against the car door and pretended to sleep until we arrived at the hotel.

1

i've debated living again today.

i fell asleep at 4am (ipod on shuffle), woke up at 8am (stared at the ceiling for approximately 20 min, shifted onto my side and studied Ana's face.) Eventually, jumped in the shower. (Stared at my naked body, determined what was good and what was bad.) Dressed in the heighth of fashion. (grey sweats and a shirt bearing my old high school's logo.) Stared at the rainy clouds, some how managed to socialize. (They don't like when im quiet.) Ate. (always good at that.) Watched Ana's family, smiled. A whole hearted smile. (and wished i could call them my own.) Layed on the lumpy, family couch and watched a movie that motivated me. (At the time i believed i'd keep that motivation, but i soon discovered an hour later it just wasnt that important to me.) Sat cross legged in Ana's room and watched her pack. (and soon discovered how lonely i really was.) Blacked out from complete exhaustion.

Oh. Forgot the part where i jump from the second floors window.
Eh, i'll live.