they blew up the past, they blew up the future

ain't nothin' but the here and now

i was born in the country, moved to the city

now i'm fatter than a big ol' cow

i got merle haggard playin', i'm a haphazard swayin'

just a drivin' my chinese car

yeah i'm huggin' the middle but the traffic's goin' right

an' i'm gonna start a civil war

all the baseball players got names i never seen

they sell sushi at the ballpark bar

and the man on the stage in the big red hat

says there's rapists at the border from afar

old joe in the house, he's as white as a ghost

says we better start snoozin' that alarm

they blew up the past, they blew up the future

ain't nothin' but the here and now

well jesus loves me, buddha bugs me

i gotta get in tune with the tao

if that eastern voodoo don't do what it's sposed to

then tramadol'll help me simmer down

This was going to be the best party ever! Everyone was saying it. She was so excited she could hardly stand it; this was her first party since her birthday so everything was different, "I'm 16 now, I can do what I want!" " I can stay out all night if I want to!" She was telling herself as she applied glitter to her lips. She loved glitter, her bed was covered in it and ever since she discovered all the different colors and the lip gloss with the sparkles and the eye shadow with the twinkling, she almost never went anywhere without some on somewhere. She glanced at the clock.......7:15...still so early, she had plenty of time, Courtney wouldn't be here for a bit yet so she could just do her thing. The music was loud and normally her mom would have yelled up by now but she knew how important this night was to her. She glanced in the mirror at her breast, she was so relieved that some fullness started to be seen on the edges of her pink sweater with the flowers stitched into it, she had been so worried, most of her friends were huge already and she tried to make lite of it; like she didn't care; she would try not to look all the time, but she was so jealous of how much better all her friends looked in clothes. It was so obvious how all the guys would flock to girls with big boobs, that's all they cared about it seemed. It practically happened overnight for her friends, especially Courtney, she had huge breast already and guys just buzzed around her like fireflies. Her mom told her not to worry, that a nice chest ran in her family, she would say with a little mischievous smile on her face, the way her mom said it made her want to puke, who says "nice chest" anyway?!

Before long Courtney showed up and they started jabbering like crazy, just talking on-top of each other, no words really even heard, just the joy of excitement and anticipation and friendship. They adjusted each other's makeup, fawned over each-others clothing and went downstairs in a disjointed rush. Her mom was waiting in the kitchen with a huge smile, obviously remembering what they were going through, what that felt like. Dad of course in his chair in the living room. The jabbering continued with her mom briefly jumping right in and keeping perfect time with them, then they said their goodbyes, kissed dad who made some half hearted warnings about-being late-boys something, but she could barely focus on anything and before she knew it they were in Courtney's car with the windows down, the spring air was warm and felt so good and fresh; the stereo blaring her favorite songs and they screaming the words at the top of their lungs.

When they arrived at the party there was already a million people, and it took them what seemed like hours to make their way through to the house, having to say hi and hug and chat every step it seemed. She was surprised to discover that she knew practically everyone there and they all seemed so happy to see them. A lot of people said happy birthday to her, cause her birthday was on Thursday and she hadn't seen them for whatever reason. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they made it into the house and if she thought it was crowded outside, it was nothing compared to inside. It was nuts! She had only been to a couple real parties in her life and they had mainly consisted of maybe 12 people sitting around drinking, smoking weed and listening to music; maybe some beer pong, this was a full out ‘rager’, like you see in the movies. She could feel her face was just in a perma grin, and that made her smile even more, this was soo cool. Courtney started just pushing people aside as they made their way through the house, she was on a mission to find drinks for them. Eventually, they found the keg, and what looked like a banquet table with a bunch of big handled plastic bottles on it with stacks of blue and red plastic cups. Courtney immediately started mixing a bunch of stuff together, shoved the first one into my hand, then finished hers and led them back through the house. She took a sip of her drink, and other than the fact that it was room temperature it wasn't too bad; really strong though, she wasn't used to drinking and she could feel her stomach just twist after the first sip and her face blush. From there, they made their way around the house, stopping and chatting with friends all along the way; the music was loud so you had to be really close to someone, then just yell. She was just thinking about what a great time she was having when she saw Him. It was Jack. He was making his way to the keg with a friend and they were talking wildly and loudly to each other. Her heart started beating like crazy and she started to feel warm. Courtney was immediately beside her telling her to go talk to him. She couldn't! She blurted out; feeling very shy and vulnerable in that moment. ‘Common!’ Courtney yelped, and grabbed her by the hand and started leading her towards Jack, towards HIM! She was struck with such an overwhelming panic that she quickly ripped her hand away; Courtney turned with a confused look on her face and thinking quickly, just told her I would, but I had to find a bathroom first, ‘Just wait here, ok?’ ‘Do you want me to go with you?’ ‘No, it's ok, I'll be right back, wait here’, ‘ok, hurry up before he disappears.’ This last part made her anxious, she really wanted to talk to him but just in that moment she wasn't ready. It was too quick, she wanted to settle into the party a little first. The drink started to warm her up and she felt she would be ready soon. I'll just go take a few deep breaths, relax and I'll be fine. She turned and started through the kitchen and into the back room where Courtney told her the bathroom was. This room had much less people, just a few couples speaking quietly on the two small couches and thankfully, no line to the bathroom. She imagined in a house like this there must be a lot of bathrooms.

When she entered the bathroom she noticed how nice and new and modern it looked. Not at all like the dreary, drab, tiny, dark bathroom at her house. Everything was shiny and new, and the air was fresh and smelled like freshly cut flowers. Wow, this is nice! she thought. She looked in the mirror to check on all her bits of glamour, the lip gloss with flecks of luminous pink, the shooting star she had placed just so on her cheek in radiant reds and golds and silvers; the light blue eyeshadow with the flickering sapphire, everything still perfect, she was so happy, and she was just positive that Jack was looking at her and wanted to talk to her. How many times had they made eye contact? 3-4? At least. She would figure out a way to talk to him when she went back out, she was sure she could convince Courtney to make something up; she was good at that stuff. She didn't  give a shit about anything! OK, she was in there for a bit now, time to get moving before someone came, she was about to make her way to the door when she glanced at the toilet and noticed that it was covered with pee. Oh gross! Guys are such pigs, who would leave it like that. She looked away and started again for the door when she heard the knock. Bam! Bam! Bam! A heavy, drunken hand pounded on the door. Oh shit! Their going to think she made the mess! Fuck! She had to clean the toilet or she would be humiliated. She looked around for something to wipe it with, there was nothing; under the sink?

Nothing. She would have to use toilet paper. Gross. She grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and started to gingerly wipe the toilet seat, the piss soaking through almost immediately; her thumb accidentally falling directly into the mess. She could feel herself almost puke.

Omg, she was taking too long now, how long ago was the first knock, 5 minutes? 10?15?! They were going to think she was taking a shit, oh my god, what was she going to do now?! The knock came again more insistent and her heart jumped into her throat, then a voice,"Hellooo?" "Somebody dead in there"?! Oh No! no no no no! It was Jack, oh god! Why me! Why! She grabbed more toilet paper and started to try and wipe the edges of the mess again, the urine was soaking through the paper instantly and getting on her, she started to gag as the moistness ran down her fingers and onto her hand, she whipped the wad into the garbage and ran to the sink to wash the urine off her hand, the knocking came again and she jumped, she had to do something, say something.

She had to get out of this bathroom, how? She looked around furtively, not knowing what she was looking for, what could help her now. She thought if she saw a gun she might use it on herself in that moment. She glanced at the window which was cracked open, the lace curtains billowing slighting from the warm spring breeze. She couldn't explain why, but she started to move then, slowly towards the window, still not knowing what she would do and balancing one hand on the wide shelf on the other side, stretched over the tub to look down and see how far the ground was.  They were on the first floor so she saw the flowers and bushes almost immediately. The large sill was wide enough to sit on and was covered with various oils and soaps and salts.

Without thought, like a zombie, she mechanically stepped into the classic high claw-foot tub, her face blank as she started to roughly push all the beauty products out of her way. In a dreamlike trance now, the banging on the door, frantic, but just a murmur in her mind, she began to crawl on the shelf towards the window, she had a vague memory of glass breaking but didn't stop or look, all she could think was escape. When she got to the window, she knelt and with both hands tried to pull it up, used to the old windows at her house, half of which she couldn't budge, she gave it everything she had and it exploded straight up into the jam with a loud bang. It had risen so effortlessly she lost her balanced and tumbled backwards into the tub, her legs sticking straight up, still on the shelf, her head turned awkwardly on the side of the tub, she immediately started to struggle up, this is ridiculous, she thought and almost smiled. What am I doing?! Quickly she scrambled up, forgetting the throbbing in her head from banging it on the tub and not caring about anything but getting the fuck out of there; she slid on her belly along the shelf and tumbled headfirst out the window, her hair and dress getting caught in the bush as she landed on the moist ground and flowers in a heavy tangled thump. Ugh, everything hurt now, dirt covered her everywhere and she was soaked from the plants being watered today; going back in the party was not an option. She tried to push herself up and the pain in her hand made her stop and she found that some glass from a perfume bottle was embedded there. Sitting in the slop, still under the bushes, she examined her hand and removed the narrow, pink, glass sliver, Happy Birthday! she thought ruefully.

She crawled out of the bushes and flower beds then, crushing the pretty pinks and yellows and not caring. When she stood up, she was afraid to look down at herself and her outfit, the dirt ground in no doubt, ruined. She wanted to sit and just cry but she had to get out of there before someone saw. She staggered out of the bushes and started towards the street careful not to be seen, as she slipped into the shadows of  the trees, she could hear people in the bathroom and as she looked back she saw the heads that were peering out of the very same window she had slithered out of moments earlier.

She staggered the 5 blocks home then, staying out of the streetlights, careful not to be noticed, moving deeper into the shadows whenever a car passed, a wet, shaggy mess. Fumbling in her small purse she found her phone and felt a moment of panic as she saw the 15 messages from Courtney, she couldn't bear to look at any of them. It was still too soon to try and formulate the excuses she would need to explain her disappearance, so she just quickly sent a text saying she felt sick and had decided to go home, and that she was sorry she didn't say bye; which of course invited a flood of other messages, which of course, she would ignore for the night; anxious to get home and hopefully die in her sleep.

When she arrived at her house the lights were all still on, her parents were no doubt going about their usual evening in the living room in front of the TV, mom reading and glancing up to stay informed as to the drama unfolding before her as dad drifted in and out of slumber. The last thing she wanted to do right now is explain anything. So, as stealthy as a ninja, she went around towards the back of the house, and in a practice performed many times before, silently slid open the screen and then the glass door and slipped inside. Walking through the screened in porch then another door to test her skill, then into the kitchen and up the back stairs to sanctuary.  Not bothering to stop in her room, she went right to the bathroom and again, without a sound, closed the door behind her and turned on the light. What she saw then she will never forget. Her hair was a tangled, sodden mess, she wouldn't be surprised if a bird flew out at this point, honestly. Her glittering makeup, so perfect before and that she had been so proud of, was smudged and smeared and missing in places and it was then that she could see that she must have been crying the whole way home as the only clean spots on her face ones marked by tears. God, what a night. She began the process of undressing when she heard the knock on the door "Colbie?" "Is that you?"  Ugh, mom, how did she find her so fast, how did she know?! moms..... "Yes mom", she heard herself say, but knew more would be required "everything's ok" "just felt a little sick so I came home, I'm going to just take a shower now ango to bed ok? Can we just talk tomorrow? I'm really tired" she repeated that last part hoping it would satisfy her, but also knowing better. "What happened?" "You've only been gone a couple hours, did something happen?" "Do you want me to make you some tea?" mom pressed. "No mom, I'm good, just tired, it was fun but I just felt queasy so I came home, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow" and as she was saying this turned the shower on to hopefully squelch any further inquisition". She held her breath then, not knowing if she had done enough. "OK, let me know if you need anything" her mom said and then nothing. Oh, thank god. She felt bad, she normally would have told her mom everything, she wanted to, but now right now, the humiliation was still too fresh.

She stayed in the shower a long time, the hot water felt so good as she washed all the grime and chill out of her body and hair, scrubbing her legs with a coral sponge and gel. She sat for a while on the floor of the tub, rubbing the sore spot on her head as she replayed the crazy night she had, the second tub she had squatted in tonight she thought and laughed a little, her whole body it seemed covered in scratches and bruises from the falls and bushes she crawled through, stinging in the hot water; she didn't mind it.  After a long time she got out, applied her favorite scented cream over her whole body trying to smooth her wounded legs, that were sure to look worse in the days to come; and putting on her soft fluffy pink robe moved towards the bathroom door. When she reached the door she stopped and listened, trying to hear if anyone was around, if anyone was close. She delicately opened it a crack and peered out, the hallway was dark and the house was quiet; all she could see was the faint light from her bedroom far down the end of the hall. When she felt confident that she was alone, she moved just outside the door.

Once out of the bathroom she stopped again, listening to any sounds of life, she could hear the faint snoring of her father from her parentsbedroom at the other end of the hall to the right of the bathroom; confident no one would ambush her she moved swiftly to her room, the warm light and flower smells enveloping her as she quickly dropped her robe and clambered onto her bed, twisting the light off and scrambling under her feathery comforter. Her familiar fuzzy companions soothing as she covered her head with the fluffy blanket; The bed warming instantly and she exhaled and sunk deeper into it.

16 sucks.

the bathroom; coming of age; young adult, 12-17 3014 words, Brett Curley, its fun; young angst; young teenager, first real party, floods the bathroom, her crush is right outside, young adult, currently no platform, formally medium and wordpress, BA in eastern european history and creative writing, writing style-Brett Curley.

There is a disruption in the way I live every time I am reminded of *others*. I'll be shopping for groceries and see something I like, reach for it, and then...

What will my flatmate think?

It's not what she'll say, because most of the time she doesn't say anything, except of course when she does. It's been rare, but the odd comment or two has me on edge. Technically she has no power over me–we're both adults, we make our own decisions. But I gave her power anyway, by caring about her perception of me. How much room for improvement do I have, to her?

It's been another late night, couldn't get any sleep before two o'clock. When I wake up, bleary-eyed and a little bit lost, I decide to let the tide whisk me away again. It doesn't quite manage, so I stay here on the bank, mattress warm in places, deliciously fresh in others. My phone is within reach, soft-spoken stories the only thing that can put me to sleep these days. It's barely nine in the morning. I have time, I tell myself. I'm not working right now anyway. Not much to do so I simply exist, and scroll, and exist, and scroll, telling myself all the while that I'll get out of bed at 9:30. When I check, it's 9:52, and dread sinks down my throat all the way to the pit of my stomach.

What would my mother think?

She'd be sad, wouldn't she? That I'm wasting away like this. "You have a lot of potential", I can hear her say, while all the things I keep saying I'll do flash before my eyes. Yet I'm still in bed, unable to move, and now guilt is making me yell at myself twice as loud. I should be, I should be, I should be.

What would my sister say?

These past few years he'd accomplished so much that even when things don't go according to her plan, she's still miles ahead of me. The solid foundation under her feet is something I don't feel I ever had, and I feel its lack underneath my bare soles. It's just my blanket and a pillow I kicked all the way down the bed during the night. No low-rate-of-success national competitive exam win, no 2k-per-month job, no screenshots of my latest run that I ran with my good body that I feed good things only.

But my sister wouldn't say anything to me. She wants me to be happy where I'm at, nothing more. She told me so herself on a car ride.

My mother wouldn't think anything other than well-wishes, because she knows my struggles, and mostly she, too, only wants me to be happy.

My flatmate is just a person, same as I am. I have opinions on her too and they're not worth anything. They're certainly not reflective of her worth, because my opinions are just that. If she expressed any worry about those I'd ask her who cares, because I certainly don't. She doesn't owe me anything.

And yet there is a disruption in the way I live every time I'm reminded that my confidence isn't enough for me to feel good about myself. So I have to make it everyone else's job to love me instead. I never say it out loud, I don't need to, we all do the same thing. Responsible for everyone except ourselves, it's like living with cameras on us all the time, never relaxed, always searching for the approval of people who have already given it. But what about the renewal? What if?

It's not even them I want to ingratiate myself to. It's the meaner, less flattering versions of them that I have locked up in my mind to serve as little punishers whenever I step a toe out of a line that I'm not really sure where that line even comes from. Is it my own? Has it been fed to me, ad after ad, tweet after buzzfeed thinkpiece, law of the land and popular opinions?

I don't know who I'm trying to please. All I can say for sure is that those distorted things I'm trying to feed with my best behaviour will always be hungry, because some masochistic part of me needs them that way.

And it's kind of hell, if you ask me.

The world did not know her.

They saw nothing special or unique about her.

Yet there she was, the cool embrace of silk wrapped around her skin as her presence sank and floated around the box. She felt small and thin, swimming in rich green colored silk that clung to the outline of her body. An emerald hue reflected off every wall in the box, turning the dull walls into an animated confinement.

Lucia let time sail her by on the sea of green waves. The box was closed, the only light was that reflecting off her own skin. She had grown so pale in the box that she imagined herself as the moon, illuminating the walls with a radiant frosty glow.

Lucia was indeed, nothing special.

She'd been convinced of that long before the box, but she did not remember why. She was in the box because she had no one. No one though her unique, no one saw her as worth keeping. She was born by moonlight, a whisper in silence.

Lucia knew there was nobody in the box with her, yet she did not feel alone. Sometimes visitors came and passed through the box, but none stayed. They could not stay, even if Lucia asked them to. She would grow too sensitive to their light, and she would become weak in their presence. The life of anyone who traveled through the box drained quickly before her iridescent eyes. They might appear, youthful and spirited, but they always left withered, empty, and aimless. Lucia could not speak with them. Lucia, in fact, did not do anything in the box. She was the guard, only there to observe as the travelers came and departed from her presence.

But not even that made Lucia special.

The visitors entered the box close to Lucia, and they slowly drifted through the space until they reached the opposite side. The visitors glared at her during their time in the box, out of spite and anger, thinking her responsible for what they experienced. They assumed she was taking their life for herself, grasping for immortality or relief in her own confinement. They assumed she was the force that drained their lives from them. But the magic that took their existence was not hers, but that of the box.

Sometimes, Lucia wished it was her. She wished that she was powerful enough to drain the souls that came into the box with her, or that their suffering would benefit her in some form. She wanted to believe herself capable of such power.

But alas, she was not.

Lucia was not special, and she was not powerful.

Those thoughts would flee from her mind just as easily as they came. The box did not allow for anything to stay except its guard and its master.

The box was controlled by a magic produced by its creator. Lucia's master condemned her to the box, where she would be the only light amidst darkness. The only sound among the silence. Only a wisp in the space. Lucia had once thought herself special, she once believed she was worth saving.

In fact, once upon a time her master had agreed with her. He had been the only one to tell her that he would save her. He saved her from her confines of loneliness, despair, and deep sorrow. He promised salvation, peace, and tranquility.

When he found her in the pit that she had dug for herself, she believed what he said.

Her master, the potentate of the box, of her soul, of the world, was none other than the Lord of the Underworld. Upon her rescue, Lucia was reborn with a new name, no doubt in semblance to his familiar title Lucifer. Of course, she did not call him by that name.

In fact, she never addressed him.

Lucia watched as her master came every once in an eternity to see her. His appearance was flawless, trimmed in shadow and full of mystique. She perceived him more as a presence than a person. But he was the center of her gravity, the only thing in all the worlds that could move her. When her master stood before her, she reached out for him in every way that she could. He would not move, and neither would she. Her body was unfeeling, her mind the only proof of her sentience. She felt his presence saturate the room until her light was dimmed and intermingled in his dark reach. He would speak to her, and she would stare back at him in awe.

"What a marvelous job, my sweet."

"Oh, how you glow, my dearest."

Lucia could not nod her head, could not move in his presence. The silk around her could not force her limbs to move even the slightest bit. She only looked upon him, her yearning thoughts centralized on him. She had an obsession for her master, not only out of desire but out of necessity. He was her potentate, her ruler, her overlord. She felt frosty drafts wafting out from him whenever he was near, and her emotions stretched out warmth in return. She felt unmatched comfort in his icy presence, she never expected anything different from him. One might call it love, or devotion.

Lucia did not know such words to describe her affixation on her master; she only knew what he spoke. She only knew the doctrine he parted onto her, and she held it close to her. His words were all she lived by while he was gone. And when he came to see her, to see the box he had designed, she drank in his presence until it permeated her throat and coated her body in his scent. Each time he departed the box, she reverenced him as the creator. He was all that she had known, his presence the only thing to soothe her.

Lucia remembered nothing of her time before her master, save for the pit he pulled her out of. the feeling of hot ragged soil sticking to her skin, the wooden planks barricading her every movement. Now, the box filled with luxurious green silk was her shelter, and her master was the vertex in which she existed.

Oh, how she wished for him to return.

This was her eternity. Her time before her master did not matter to Lucia, only him. The only things that mattered to Lucia was her master and the box she guarded. The box that he had created. She had been created for the box, and for its creator.

She was condemned for eternity to watch the travelers and guard the box. Her master kept her there, and she had no desire to be elsewhere. If her master was to return, she would be there, waiting for him. She would guard the box for every eternity, as long as her master would return to her. She may have been condemned to the box, but the box was also condemned to serve her and her sea of green silk. She waited, until the box opened once more to let in its master, her master.

"My Lucia, are you ready for a change?"