my first kiss was disgustingly romantic, dripping with so much artificial sweetener that it burned a hole in my tongue.

glucose and aspartame seep in through the cracks of friendships, letters crumpled up in the corner of my room to be ignored when they begin to taste like candy. i never text the number written in the footnotes.

sugar floss thrums in the air as cookies and cakes in little brown bags sit on cafeteria tables. i hide away in my dorm, hoping nobody hands me a note with the word banquet? on it. once i think i've escaped, powdered sugar sticks on my clothes and it happens anyway. the cake he gives me is made with bittersweet chocolate chips. hopefully we're just friends.

when i was younger, i never thought about sugar. i lived in my own savory world, oblivious to gazes filled of frosting until they filled my eyes and i was forced to flush it out. confusion filled my brain when i did think about it, and avoiding it was simpler. my world tasted fine the way it was. why ruin it with sweetener?

i expect to taste fructose in the space between me and her, but my mind is sweeter than reality. she is sea-salt that blows through my hair, and i like it that way. if she poisoned my brain with saccharin, i would have to spit it out. late-night talks on schoolroom floors and sleeping bags barely touching each other don't have to mean anything more. i still keep the planet charm i bought with her over my desk to smell its minty aroma. 

the sky is still bright when it's not sweetened. nature is full of green-and-gray hues that disappear with the addition of the stevia my dad keeps in the cupboard. i thrive in my world of solitary socialization, filling my life with so much flavor that it threatens to drip down my chin. when sweetness is taken out, bitter, sour, salty, umami, cool, and hot still exist. 

maybe someday, i'll try sugar again. but for now, i'm happy this way.

OBJECTIVE: TAKE HER

ATTEMPT: 1

they sit in the center of a roller-skating rink,

underneath a cracked and bleeding disco ball.

in the corner, three pixelated arcade games hum with static,

their faded lights blinking every so often to throw the room into full relief.

the carpet surrounding the rink, once a glowing neon in the black light,

is now covered in dirt and debris from years of neglect;

the smell of mold lingers over the space,

replacing the familiar scent of cheaply baked pizza.

nothing is as it was, anymore.

they get to their feet, upsetting the film of dust already gathering on their trousers,

and walk through the door into the rest of the building,

passing the booth where kids used to cash in tickets to buy feather hair extensions and finger skateboards.

cobwebs cover the graying figurines left on the shelves, smiles frozen eerily in time.

the door opens, and they squint in expectation of a bright white light,

but all that greets them is the darkness of everything forgotten.

the light on their iphone leads them to the peeling white road traveled on by kick-scooters (only now used by bugs);

in the center is the primary-colored climbing structure,

all the plastic coverings shredded to reveal the flattened foam underneath.

to the left is the deflated remains of a bounce house,

and in front of that is the main arcade center,

the whack-a-mole ducks looking towards the light with unseeing eyes.

a low hum comes from the pac-man game.

where is she?

they pick up their pace, running along the track and past the broken skateboard jumps.

the ball pit is deserted, only two or three balls remaining,

as are the party rooms,

their purple lights fizzling ominously.

finally, they come to a stop in front of the pink-clothed tables.

there you are.

a young girl sits at the table in the middle table among a sea of unwrapped and discolored birthday presents.

she has face-paint on in the shape of a butterfly that matches the one on the sour-smelling cake in front of her,

the candles long burned down to nubs.

in her hand is a bunch of once-yellow balloons, the only legible letters etched onto them being

ic fun cente.

they kneel down in front of her, their hand coming to rest on her teal leggings.

her voice is so small and faint that they have to lean in to hear her, her pigtails tickling their nose.

-why is nobody coming to my party?

i don't know. maybe they just haven't arrived yet.

nobody would arrive. they know that.

the girl nods slowly, kicking her sparkly shoes in impatience. 

-why are you here?

i wanted to find you. i needed to find you. it's been too long.

-who even are you?

i'm you. well, an older version of you. and i need to take you with me, now. life's been too difficult without you around.

-but i can't leave. i'm waiting for my friends. i even put on my birthday dress, see?

this is super important. don't you want to go somewhere brighter? this place is kind of scary, isn't it?

-mommy's bringing ice cream and she told me to stay right here. you can wait with me, though.

no, i can't wait any longer! life's going by, and i need you by my side! come with me now, before it's too late!

-i want to stay here.

they feel tears stinging in their eyes.

please! PLEASE!

-no!

in desperation, they grab her hand and start pulling her up, ignoring her screams.

she kicks at them once, twice, and then everything goes black.

------------------------------------------------------

OBJECTIVE: TAKE HER

ATTEMPT: 2

they sit in the center of a roller-skating rink,

underneath a cracked and bleeding disco ball.

girl in the butterfly wings,

why aren't you flying away from here?

girl in the butterfly wings,

do you ever want to disappear?

the world is broken and hurt,

shadows chasing light out of the sky;

bloodstains cover your pink skirt,

yet i never seem to hear you cry.

is there something i can't see?

how much pain do you bury inside?

you could be gone, even free,

yet you choose to stay, suffer, and die.

perhaps one day i'll fathom

why you accept the world as it is;

you'll teach me mind and atom

to let go, return to states of bliss.

for now, i'll just sit and stare

and admire your spirit from afar;

the way you dance without care,

though your shoes conceal a scar.

girl in the butterfly wings,

why aren't you flying away from here?

girl in the butterfly wings,

do you ever want to disappear?

1.pleasant thoughts that distract from a situation

fingers drum against my desk. up and down, up and down. perhaps they reach for my pen and click it occasionally; in all honesty, i have lost track of their location. 

i have lost track of most things, it seems.

thoughts float through my head, coming and going as they please. sometimes they take the form of dancers, moving gracefully to the beat coursing through my earbuds; other times, they become villains wearing big black combat boots that stop through puddles with reckless abandon. my hands lift on their own accord, swiping through the air as if trying to paint the images that flash in front of me, and i can feel my face contorting into various expressions aligning with the moments fluttering in my mind. it is pure bliss, pure ignorance, pure serenity. 

my schoolwork lays unfinished in front of my unseeing eyes, but there will be more time later. for now, i sink deeper into the fantasies i have created, feeling freer than i ever have before.

2. unwarranted thoughts that grip the attention and never let go

fingers run up and down the seam of the quilt, getting faster and faster and faster until numbness spreads into my hand.  back and forth, back and forth, backandforth. i know where they are and what they are doing, though i cannot control them lest i implode upon myself.

everything is vivid. all of it.

the near-hallucinations flash violently in front and inside of me, unnaturally unblurred by the tears that fill my eyes. they mutate from one horrid  delusion to the next, shoving files of perverted and grotesque scenes into my overwhelmed mind and cackling into my ears. i feel my voice crying out in desperation somewhere next to me. my body curls up, trying to protect itself, but the thing destroying it is on the inside, so it screams louder. i finally force myself to stretch out, take a shaky breath, and lay facing the other side of the bed, gritting my teeth as the dreams continue trample through my head like a herd of unruly bison. it is pure horror, pure torture, pure disgust.

my pillow lays unused in the middle of the night, stains of tears and snot soaking through to the feathers. i do not know when i can finally return to it, but for now, my phone is in my hand, my fingers anxiously darting around to find something to distract the fantasies and make them leave. 

the altar is cold and unforgiving, hard stone against soft skin. tears cushion my damp cheek as it rests near the patch of moss. this shrine has not been used in years, and the wood sitting on top has wilted in the rain. it is funny how the world is silent in the face of abandonment.

i turn my eyes to the stars above.

i used to come here every day, faith strong as iron in my heart as i stood steadfast, my young face turned to the seemingly unending pillar of belief in quiet awe. now, i am much older; there are bags underneath my once-sparkling eyes, and my body is tired. i do not even know why i came here. nobody can help me under these blanched columns. 

my mind has not stopped whirling around in circles, and it is beyond me why i cannot grasp the confidence i felt all those years ago. how did i kneel at the base of the altar and proclaim my religion over and over again with no hesitation? how did i let myself get taken underneath that holy water with no fear of drowning? how did i study those scriptures with my whole heart, drinking in every word as if it would save my life? it seems impossible, for now i can barely lay on the ground near the statues of worship without breaking. 

once i realized what i could not find here anymore, i had traveled the entire world, hoping to find another altar -- one that was full of life and light. i was so hopeful back then, hopeful in the face of heartbreak and despair. in the end, the latter triumphed, and i ended up back here, where i am today. my hair is long and my feet are swollen, and wasting away here does not seem like a poor option after all. better to die in a familiar but lost home than to die in a strange and anxious land.

i have accepted my fate. i ask the deities i once tried to find to forgive me for the sins i have committed -- it is not their fault that my eyesight is poor. i take off my cloak, the last protection i have against the elements. my sandals are lain on the ground, pressed up against the stone wall. before i lay down, however, there is one last thing i must do. i turn around, facing the altar as i once did when i was young, and beg for divinity to reveal itself to me, so i may know that i have not been forsaken my whole life.

the world still stands silent in the face of abandonment.

i lay down and breathe my last.