fractured-god

[fractured-god]

(04/28/25 - 05/06/25)

I was in science class. Second period. Two (2) minutes before class was supposed to end. This girl was chatting with some other people. They were laughing and hanging out, talking. Like every day. Like normal.

The phone rang and the teacher went to answer it. I barely even noticed. It was so normal, far out of my mind at the time. The teacher calls out to the girl, it's for her. The teacher makes a joke about how she's so popular. I don't really remember. I noticed now, but barely.

I look away. I don't think about it. It's probably nothing. People get phone calls like that all the time. I know I have. But then something happened.

The girl is crying. Shes upset. Really upset. The class is quieter now. Everyone is watching. Nobody says anything.

The teacher goes up to her and comforts her. She asks what's wrong. She takes the phone. The person on the other line explains what the issue is, I guess, because she seems to understand and she hangs up. She comforts the girl and says it's going to be okay. She tells her to go somewhere during lunch and find a quiet space.

The girl agrees, and goes to get her stuff. The phone rings again. The teacher picks it up again. She tells the girl that someone was removed from the premises. She relaxes.

It's strange, how quickly people can go from one emotion to another.

A day later, we had a lockdown. It was a mistake, ultimately, but nobody knew that at the time.

When I was hiding in a science classroom full of people I didn't know, I wondered how she was feeling. Her world was turned upside-down by a simple phone call with the prospect of someone being on school grounds just the other day, I can't imagine how much she must've been panicking when she thought the person might've been actually inside the school.

I mean, I was scared for my life and I didn't have anyone out to get me specifically. I was already mentally writing out my will. She had an even bigger reason to worry.

It's been a week or so now. She seems okay. I see her next period. I don't think I'll ever know what she went through, but I hope she's okay. I'm scared for her sometimes.

Did I mention she's my age? She's nice and funny. Smart, too. She has a lot of friends. She's friends with a girl from my old school who was one of the only people who wasn't a massive jerk. I think that's proof enough that she's a good person.

So who could be so cruel as to be the reason she's afraid? Someone horrible, that's who. It's stupid that kind people have to go through horrible things. It's not fair. It's ridiculous.

[fractured-god]

(03/06/25 - 05/25/25)

I was sitting in the hall, waiting for my math teacher to come out and help me. We set up a meeting, you know. I had failed a test and went for math help so I could better understand the material. Whatever. I've never been a math person.

I guess someone else failed their test too, because I hear someone else getting stressed over a test. They're talking to their friend like normal.

I'm not really listening. It's whatever, I have other stuff to worry about (evidently).

And then their friend says something.

"Your entire life is not defined by a single test."

And yeah, it's mundane and obvious and people say stuff like that all the time, but it sticks.

I've never been academically obsessed. I try to do well, but if I fail a test? As long as my average is above 50%, it's not a big deal.

But I know people who obsess over every little grade. Every number. Every mark.

"Your entire life is not defined by a single test."

It's true. It isn't. Sure, your grades now decide your university or college, and your education there decides your job in the future, and your job decides quality of life, etcetera etcetera.

But those are just numbers. It's just numbers.

Marks, tests, averages, college acceptance rates, university graduate success rates, wadge, raises, promotions, money.

Everything is just a number. It doesn't actually mean anything.

I can't understand how people can obsess over soulless numbers.

[fractured-god]

(02/27/25 - 05/25/25)

it's difficult for me to tell the difference between intense platonic feelings and romantic feelings partially because of this, I think. people describe romantic attraction as like the most you can feel for someone, and that isn't true for me.

i love my friends. i love a lot. i love with my entire being, yknow? and its not romantic, its just love.

im glad the greeks had a bunch of words for it, because it makes everything a whole lot easier. like no im not romantically in love with them, its platonic. i love my brother but not like /that/, ew.

i just love a lot.

sorry, i guess?

[fractured-god]

(02/23/25)

My teeth aren't sharp enough, and I can't stop biting my nails, and there's a rats nest made out of my hair.

My skin isn't perfect, there's a scar on my back, and moles all over my arms.

There are stretch marks on my thighs and I've pierced my ears twice, only once have I had lice, but this body just isn't mine.

I wish I had teeth like a dog and claws like a dragon and hair like a mermaid.

I wish that my skin was made of silky soft porcelain, and my back was free of scars, and my arms didn't have moles.

I wish my thighs hadn't stretched and my ears pierced the first time and I never had lice even once.

I loathe me so much but these imperfections are mine and I can't live without them, so they stay.

I don't belong to this flesh, but it belongs to me, and the person I look at in the mirror is mine.

They aren't me, but they're the same, and we both love each other too much to go, so we stay.

They're like a sibling to me, but they aren't me. This flesh is mine as in it belongs to me, not as in it is a reflection of myself.

Mine as in mine to care for and love, not who I am. And sure, it does what I want it to, and it says what I think it should, but it isn't who I am. It's something else. The person in the mirror is someone else.

[fractured-god]

(02/22/25)

I always say that everyone who's fun is a little crazy, and everyone who's a genius is a little insane. it has to balance out. You can't be amazing without a little damage.

[fractured-god]

(14/02/25 - 18/02/25)

You get mad when I yell, but I only screamed because you acted like you didn't hear me. I think that says more about you than it does me.

You call yourself a hero for vanquishing what you call a villain, but I'm human too. How is it fair to vilify me just because I'm not the same as you? I was raised on revolution and dystopian stories of heroes and revolutionaries, fighting oppressive systems and hurting people who want to hurt them more. I was raised on this, and you expect me not to fight back and stand my ground?

You gave me so little space to exist, and I am fighting tooth and nail to create more. You seem to forget, I'm not pushing back, I'm making space. I deserve this. I deserve to live.

I am a person and an artist and a child and a sibling and a friend and a fan and a lover. I like stories and music and shopping and painting and singing and musicals.

I am not less than you for being different than you. I am not a sinner. I am not unholy. I am not unclean. I am a product of my own love and resistance. My own perseverance and design. I have earned my place by existing in this space, and I do not deserve less than you.

You hate me because I exist. I hate you because you want me dead. My survival is not the same as your need for power. I was born for the purpose of living, and my fighting for that purpose cannot be compaired to your large existence, wanting more than you need and taking all you can get your hands on.

You see what you want, hear what you want, and take what you want. That is not something I should be punished for.

I do not deserve to suffer. I deserve to be loud and big and alive and a person. I don't deserve pain just because you say I'm less.

I am allowed to be me. And you cannot stop it.

(This is about politics)

[STORY UNDER THE CUT]

This was a poem written for a Black History Month assignment. The task was to write a poem that made you feel something. That was the only instruction.

We were to take a line from the poem and use it in a drama piece we were creating. The line I chose was "I am not pushing back, I'm making space."

The funny part is, I came up with that line before I came up with the rest of the poem.

I had to re-write it a few times because the first time, I wrote pretty much the same thing, and then accidentally lost it by showing my friend and forgetting to save it.

So I re-wrote it from what I remembered, but I never actually finished it that one time, so I left it as it was and forgot about it.

After that, pretty much everything I wrote was long.

A while later I remembered it and I finished the poem, but it was a lot longer than anything I had written before.

[fractured-god]

(02/13/25)

Angels made the snow, too, I think. The other day I was walking home and I looked up and the streetlights were on and it was snowing and the world was all white and I could hardly see the end of the street because the snow was falling so hard. It was gorgeous. I looked down and the snow sparkled under the lights. I think it's little pieces of angel dust falling for us. They're telling us they love us and giving us beauty. But they don't know how to love like we do, so their love is cold. They don't mean to, really, they just need to learn. It's hard for them because they're so old and they aren't used to kindness the way we are. Give them time.

[fractured-god]

(02/12/25)

Angels have whiskey on their lips. They taste like alcohol and cigarettes. Their wings smell of smoke and when they kiss you it makes you a little more drunk each time. Their touch makes you high and their laugh feels like sex. Angels taste like sin, and they make you want to. They are the temptation.

They give you a little piece of heaven, for the price of never getting to go there yourself.

[fractured-god]

[POINT BREAK SPOILERS]

(01/05/25)

Do you think that when Bohdi died, with water in his lungs and a break in his neck, that he felt at peace on the ocean floor? Do you think that when he lost his board when the wave took him, that he knew it was his time, and he smiled as he sunk to the bottom? Do you think that when Bohdi paddled out in the the storm, the rain and the sea colliding on his skin, he felt it? The pull? The adrenaline? The destiny he was experiencing? Do you think he knew it was his time, and that when Johnny's badge drifted to him on the sea floor, he clutched it tight, a reminder of the one that got away every time, and knew they'd meet again one day? Do you think he knew?

[fractured-god]

(12/29/24)

We're driving in the dark to a restaurant I've never been to and it's raining outside. It's cold and wet and I can only just feel my toes. It looks like midnight outside but it's only 5:54PM. I wonder what other people are doing right now.