xoxo, nico

you told me you were going to make me your queen but now whenever i hear your name all i can think is off with your head. i pretend that i’m the one in the throne and you are below me on your knees with your head down begging me for the plea of insanity so i spare your life. sorry love, not this time. instead, i’d like to stuff it and place it upon a shelf with all the other ones i’ve collected over the years. some of them are getting dusty now but your looks are still shiny and new even if there’s no life in those blue eyes. frame after frame after frame its always exactly the same and my crimes i committed years ago in vain are dragging behind me like shackles and chains. i let it go but they’re all still connected to my ankles. every evening i go home with a migraine and every morning i wake up in pain from tossing and turning on a slab of concrete screaming in my head for the gate keeper to pretty please fucking let me out of this place.

two’s company but three’s a crowd. shhh, listen. can you hear them? they’re all rooting for you, screaming your name over and over again, a whole entire stadium full sounding like a broken fucking record. you’ve been going places and doing things lately where you’re not allowed. treating others how you would never want to be treated yourself. shitting where you ate should have left a bad taste in your mouth even though everyone else can still only smell roses. too bad flowers remind me of funeral homes.

hail mary
full of grace
the lord is with thee
blessed art thou
amongst women
and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb jesus
holy mary
mother of god
prey for us sinners now
and at the hour of our death

life’s not fair.

i almost married someone because i was to scared to break up with him. we used to go at it like two stray cats and i would freeze when he couldn’t control his temper tantrums. that would just piss him off even more because he believed i was ignoring him so then he would make me flinch by almost hitting me with his fist, grab my shoulders and shake me or slam me against a wall so hard that i would end up with a bump hidden by the hair on my head. i used to keep a journal of all the things that he used to do to me, the things he’d say and the awful stuff i thought inspired by him when i got hurt. everyone has their fair share of personality disorders and i know i am guilty of several. he happen to be bi-polar, have adhd, post traumatic stress syndrome, and ocd. i thought if i cared enough then one day he would be a miracle. he used to get so jealous that i barely could even talk to anyone without him accusing me of something i was never guilty of. i planned the whole wedding and i had it almost all done; the band, the catering, the flowers, the dress and all the save the date cards had been sent out. the only thing missing was the undergarments, something borrowed and something blue. he took a cocktail that stole his libido so he stopped taking all the drugs and not long after that he started telling me i was worth nothing and i should just go kill myself. he got more and more violent to the point where i was living in this fear that if i said anything he might react by strangling. it wasn’t until after he put me in the hospital that i called everything off two months before i signed a contract.

on august 11 i was supposed to get married but instead i started my period and sat in the boston apartment we shared for two years all alone watching the storm. when it rains it pours. fast forward a couple years to when i first moved to new york and just got dumped by someone who told me that they would never love me. a mutual friend of ours popped the question to his lady and asked me to document their wedding. i agreed before they picked the date, started seeing someone else and then fell in love with my rebound. he broke my heart a week before the road trip to go shoot amy and pete’s special day in vermont when i shared the back seat with the friend who said i would never be his one and only. last year the sky was crystal clear blue on august 12.

it took two years of therapy before i realized this all wasn’t my fault. i can push buttons if i want and when i took a kung fu lesson i learned that walking away is the cleanest way to fight a battle i can’t win. i can cut off and it will be like we had never even been introduced and if i pass you on the street i will find the nearest avenue. you could be invisible if you’re rubbing elbows with me and i don’t really give a shit what you think. you can talk all you want and justify your actions with no remorse and all i’ll have to say is yeah, whatever, i’ve heard that line before.

i was in high school when me and my friend went to the humane society then left with a kitten in my pocket. we lied and decided we were heroes for our rescue plot and i didn’t care how pissed my parents got i was not ever going to let them not let me keep my pet. cat sitting always reminds me why i left mine at home in romeo with my mom and pop every time i took off to a different city. willow and max live on the forth floor of an east village apartment building with the photo editor at page six magazine. right now she is in la la land shooting and they are mine for the week. this place is a cage compared to what puff sneaks around in plus she even gets to go outside.

duchess believes that the duke has been cheating on her since he moved out of the apartment that we used to share. i moved into his old room when fara princess took over mine but he was still using my floor for storage up until this morning. i was sitting on the stoop when abby road drove up with the duke shotgun all pissed because i tipped duchess off to a photo on the dream girl’s public profile of him hiding behind her uploaded during the last time i watched willow and max. i told him he was not allowed to be mad at me and i decided he can be one of those friends i don’t exactly trust. i just can’t get over the fact that he’s still scared to tell the whole truth and how he spins things in an attempt to justify his actions. its fascinating to see that what goes around can come back around in full spirals.

the truth hurts. it stabs you in the back of the heart and twists the knife while it gets deeper until all of it has drained out into a pool at your feet. love stains just like blood does only you can’t see it on the rug when it’s been swept under it like dust. in my opinion you should keep your head down rather than your chin up. you should be ashamed of yourself because i know i am for originally being your accomplice and you’ve left me no choice but to question my own loyalty. pathological liars believe themselves and cover up the truth they make up in order to make themselves appear to be the good one on the surface. two wrongs don’t make a right and i wish i could exchange my eye for one of hers so i could see what she even saw in you. obviously you don’t value a friendship enough to swallow your pride but maybe that’s because you’re too afraid it might get caught in your throat and god forbid you choke. what you don’t realize is that nobody gives a shit where you go or who you do with your time. you don’t have to answer to either or and you can head for the catskills whenever you get bored.

i just feel bad for the innocent girl holding his hand while she skips down the street. she thought that whole time he was being honest and i even lied through my teeth to her face to cover up for his past that up until more recent than not was still his present. when she asked me if it was over i should have said no, probably not. right now he’s in a bedroom telling her a story – oh, and the night before he was under your covers he was sharing her white sheets. of course you should trust me because i made up all six sides of three stories. he kept telling her to not tell me things but when she got drunk she’d let secrets slip out. its my fault too though, you see i spiked her soda with lime and poured words down her throat. finding out he met his new lover while he was still with duchess then lied to everyone makes me wonder if the only thing he wanted was to get caught.

dear homecoming queen, things are not always what they seem but i do wish you the best of who you see in between.

“getting ahead in a difficult profession requires avid faith in yourself. this is why some people with mediocre talent, but with great inner drive, go much further than those with vastly superior talent.”

~ sophia loren

there’s no way i’m going to be jealous of the next girl that you date. instead i think i’m going to be like go ahead please take him. eat him alive for all i care but that’s only because pretending to hate you makes it that much easier to deal with. sometimes i feel like i could spiral into this and let myself want more than what you’re willing to give but that’s selfish. i don’t deserve it. you have it all handed to you on the silver platter i’m begging for because the one i used to have is now tarnished and doesn’t work like a wish anymore. i woke up last week and realized for the first time that i have to work for what i want to see in your mirror. by the time you were my age you probably had it all figured out already. like you saw your whole future in the silver dollar you found on the floor. the fact that we met the night you fucked my best friend while i was passed out in her roommates bed is not a good story to tell our children. my problem is that i ignored every single one of the red flags while i kept a white one at half mass but i still keep going back. my grandpa always says old habits die hard and you can’t teach an old dog new tricks like they are words to live by. i should have been wise and listened to him when i was a kid but i was stupid back then and i’ve never been too keen on making the right decisions. i’ve been using you for the wrong reasons and finally i’m coming to the realization that just sex is not good enough. hopefully one day i’ll wake up lying next to you and be able to forgive myself.

detroit red wings win the stanley cup. again.

the first year i tried out for cheerleading i didn’t make it and i balled my eyes out for a week. it was the end of the fucking world when i didn’t see my name on the list. i wanted to run and hide and begged my parents to let me switch schools because i couldn’t bear to face the embarrassment come the fall when we all went back to romeo high. i thought they were all gonna laugh at me and tag me as the poor little girl who can’t fly.

at the last minute i ended up on a train out of penn station heading south. we got off at a place called asbury park and took a five minute cab ride through the gated entrance of ocean grove, also know as god’s square mile on the jersey shore. it was like i was gone for a week and i’m waking up from a dream i can’t remember.

we checked in and the keeper gave us keys along with a ten cent tour. our room was up on the third floor and when i walked up the stairs i had that odd feeling that someone was watching me. i glanced back expecting to see another guest but there was just empty antique seating and creaky stairs. weird but whatever. we took a stroll on the boardwalk and up and down streets lined with picket fences surrounding manicured lawns. the homes were all century old victorian with queen ann windows and wrap around porches. the kind of place thats too perfect to be real like the truman show or pleasant ville. do do do do do do do do you have entered the twilight zone, the brighter the trim the more saturated the secrets.

so we end up at this little restaurant on main street that used to be an old apothecary complete with display cases full of old products and bottle with worn of labels and some even still had pills left in them that were never sold let alone opened for decades. it was then i found out that this was a dry square mile because its the original meeting place of some religious movement that settled there in 1860. whatever floats your boat people. luckily i happen to have brought my own whiskey to spike my root beer and coffee ice cream.

it started to storm so we went back to our room and sat there listening to the thunder and watching for lightning. the lamp in the room flickered but the power stayed on and then the bathroom door slammed shut so loud i thought it might wake the dead. we both jumped out of our skin. it was only half past ten but i’m sure the whole square mile was already in bed. the window was closed and the bathroom doesn’t have one so we couldn’t figure out where a gust of wind that strong could come from. i laid there for hours listening to the rain and i remember thinking it should be warmer in here because i turned on the heat, that this mattress is lumpy and my neck is going to hurt in the morning. it was still dark outside and my eyes were closed when i felt a hand on my shoulder even though i was alone in my own bed. next time i’m going to sleep with them wide open.