ballad of the costa concordia

i don’t think i have ever hurt this much before. 

my parents found out about me and my girlfriend. i had a five hour long fight with them, and i spoke my feelings out loud for the first time in my life. i fought back. i’m still in disbelief i did that. 

i was told that people like me are an abomination to god. that were out of the natural order. we’re a sin that is unforgivable, unacceptable. worse than drugs, worse than sex, worse than anything. god is the most important thing to my parents. god is loved more than i am. they said to beg him for forgiveness. 

i am an abomination. 

i was told to kill myself. it was said out of anger, i know this. it was apologized for. but it sticks with me, like something that keeps rotting inside my stomach. i went to my room and got high. think i took too much. everything hurt. i felt the hurt behind my face, like it was pushing against it to break free. i felt it in my teeth. 

my mother told me to die. my father told me to die. i don’t feel like im supposed to be here. not even in a suicidal way, but in a cosmic way. i don’t think i was meant to exist. i’m a product of two people who don’t love each other, and they don’t love me. they think they love me, but i don’t feel loved. or maybe it’s just that i don’t love them. i haven’t loved them since i was five. not really.

i lost my mind and cut off my hair that night. i had been proud of my long hair, it was the longest i’ve ever had it in my life. i needed it gone i needed it off of my body. i needed to cut something off my body. and then i cried. it hurt so much, and i didn’t want to feel anything. i put on my orchestra concert dress for my competition the next day, and was putting on makeup. i kept repeating to myself; “you can’t cry or you’ll ruin the makeup.” but as i was putting it on my face, i kept remembering how gently my girl had done my makeup, how lovingly she touched my face, and i couldn’t stop crying.

at school i felt like shit. 

on the bus to the orchestra competition, i was silently sobbing nonstop. the teacher had to come up to me and check up on me and it was so embarrassing. people kept asking me if i was okay and i would tell them yes and i think i made them uncomfortable because i wouldn’t let them help me. the other thing people kept asking was what i do with my hair. they like it. my girl loves it. 

i kept my composure for the entire concert, and did well. after the competition, the teacher called me in his office and asked me what was wrong. he told me he’s very sorry for what’s happening, and that he and so many people are there for me. he also praised me for my solo at the concert and how i did good leading the other people of my instrument group.

a lot of my friends came into the office to console and comfort me.

they kept repeating how they love me and how even if my parents aren’t there for me, my friends are. they told me not to think about what they said and that it isn’t in my control or my fault and to not kill myself.

all i could think about was how embarrassing this all was.

but even then, i couldn’t stop shaking as i tried to control my tears but i would keep crying and trying to look away. i’m a bad daughter. i’m a bad friend and a bad student and a bad christian and a bad person. i don’t want to be a bad girlfriend on top of that. i don’t want to leave my girl. i love her so so so much and this is breaking me.

this morning i saw her and i fell into tears in her arms. i never wanted to let go. she means everything to me. 

i’ve always thought god would punish me one day, by cursing me with something awful. but in his cruelty, he gave me something so beautiful and then took it away like it was nothing.

i think that’s worse. 

..

sometimes i wish that god had granted us the blessing

of having been born of fur or scales

multicolored feathers or legs that

spin like the wheel of a sewing machine

our skin could be made of tree bark

the hair on our heads are leaves that

fall and dance in the air

maybe he could have made us into

river rapids or

lava rapids or

wind rapids or

tiny little beetles 

and we dig into the dirt together

with a love that cannot be counted as sin

…

here’s a car seat headrest lyric:

“How was I supposed to know?

If God won’t forgive me

and You won’t forgive me

Not unless I open up my heart

and how am i supposed to do that

when i go to this same room every night

sleep in the same bed every night

same fucking bed

with the red comforter with the white stripes

and the yellow ceiling light makes me 

feel like i’m dying.”

-The Ballad of the Costa Concordia