literallytheonlyjo

[literallytheonlyjo]

the introduction

I'm Jo. this is my blog.

in the process of my detoxes, I find creations too beautiful to simply purge. instead, they land here, something to write about when it's late at night and nothing sounds right to eat.

melodramatic in nature; never too serious. a collection of experiences I had/have/will have. laughing through it all.

she/her. late spring baby. type 8. miniskirt enthusiast.

a writer. an artist. a star.

[literallytheonlyjo]

foggy now, isn't it?

what makes you believe this is the easy route? what compels you to image that the weight of my lies, the secrets I have weaved, the car rides I have omitted from this narrative, are easy? they are stained with my self-disrespect, a refusal to be honest. they are not things I would make you understand; they are things I long to forget.

I am not a rebel, not a martyr. I was a child, born to run, unsure of repentance. now I must defend decisions I cannot in hopes I do not become one of you.

it was never about him.

[literallytheonlyjo]

noisy minds have sleepless ambitions

[literallytheonlyjo]

I said the writing was on the wall. Maybe it was, but if so, it was in a language I couldn't read. The runes were ancient, something biological, something I had long evolved past. They were the cries of man and woman, never fitting together, reaching, searching, coming up short. They were in another's tongue, from a land too far away, one I didn't understand. I though the pictographs simply pictures, paintings made for me. I forgot you were not artistic, seldom a poet. I didn't realize you were carving a tragedy, trying to tell me you no longer found it in you to love me.

[literallytheonlyjo]

seems like something; was never anything

I have to quit doing this, or I'm going to keep doing this.

Until my nail beds bleed, my head spins, surely you get the picture. Perhaps it hurts, but not enough that I can justify all the things I feel. I don't even like him, I just miss what it feels like to make a man come alive again. To see his eyes light up. Oh, how I miss that light.

[literallytheonlyjo]

fourteen forever

my greatest fear is that, inside of my mind, I will be fourteen forever. I am driving on an interstate, far from here, and I glance over. there she is, singing along to the radio. except this is a song that was released long after I was fourteen, and I am driving alone. each winter I believe that she has perished, her bones molded by the dirt. I'm always wrong.

I pick her up at the restaurant. she can't drive; she rides shotgun. I take her wherever she wants to go. I give her my intelligence, trying to make her stronger. she replaces it with rage, then I see red driving over 100mph. we crash, my limbs mangled and her skin raw. I believe I see her take her last breath, blood pooling at her mouth. I am always wrong.

It's not her fault. I'm the one healing her, resurrecting her for one more round. I wonder what it's like from her perspective, seeing my glare across the car. she hears me honk outside the restaurant and must tell her friends I'm not a threat. she takes my intelligence and uses it, giving me what she believes is her greatest weakness. when we crash, she lays out on the asphalt, wondering why it had to be like this. how did we get so messy? how did we get so careless? what happened to make us so jaded? she cannot think of anything because she's not smart enough to know day from night, right from left, dead from alive. all she knows is fear.

her greatest fear is becoming me.