for my inner twenty-one year old

i remember lizzie because i wanted to be like her. perfect set-up to lose my boyfriend to another chick. after andrew had e-mailed her all of the things that had gone wrong in their relationship, she replied back, "lol". boy did we all steal that "lol"- even andrew. i saw him use it over and over on facebook, whenever people were dishing back to him whatever it was he had served. i still reference that "lol" in my mind when i decide that someone means to hurt my feelings.
i wanted to be like that venus fly trap so bad, even though i was prettier, smarter, and sweeter than her. all the things guys say they want in girls. even though junior high had been over for a few years, me and my BFF still steeped our judgments of other chicks heavily in that which we can't help about ourselves- at least when we were jealous and not owning it. but it's all subjective- we're drawn to who we're drawn to and we'll convince ourselves they're the greatest until we choose to screw the noise.
i actually didn't really know lizzie at all. just knew her drugs were different than mine and she grew up in hollywood. she did a lot of coke, adderall. i liked painkillers and drank too much. somehow, i made it all look much more disgusting than she did- but andrew was even better at that than both myself and lizzie combined.
she was popular, her family was rich and she really was not all that nice. i came from discombobulated white trash and i got bullied pretty bad growing up because i'm noticeably sensitive. we were wounded in opposing ways because of this fundamental class/status difference, or whatever.
she represented a glamorous stereotype and i wanted to, too. i still do, of course, in a way- because it seems easy. because i'm so tired from needing to work hard all the time, i just want to have a choice to coast. my fantasies about inspiring people have been a constant pacifier that i don't even react to anymore. i like the idea of impressing others with my power in a way that helps them heal themselves. these particular fantasies belong to my inner teenager- she who i've lost touch with aside from the fantasies. though it happens anyway, i'm not yet willing to sit with the rage and depression that i'd cultivated to an overwhelming degree then. it brings up resentments against myself and those that mistreated me. it brings up resentments against the bubble in which i insulated myself against the world- besides my sharp words and glares, my only weapon then. it was practically the roofie bubble the goblin king put sarah in in the labyrinth. i never wanted to leave it- but i got distracted by survival.

boy oh boy did i cut energetic cords with everyone else when i was a kid. just like my pa, i thought everyone was so stupid for not seeing through capitalism/academia/religion/etc. overbearing patriarchal symbols. i didn't even soften the energetic connections before cutting through them with sharp objects. don't even remember if i used knives, shark teeth, or my own nails.
doing so caused me to turn into someone with no roots; no home. i floated around the sky turning redder and redder 'til i was way out in space. that's when i turned blue, but still i couldn't turn into a sun- i needed to get more in touch with my wisdom first. needed to recognize my fire as fire, not as anything else.

i was both pluto and mercury. the kind of bastard child i always knew deep down inside i must've been.

on behalf of andrew, it would be forgiving of me to say lizzie stole him from me but she didn't. he was always in her jaws because he hadn't learned from her- refused to grow from his victimhood.
lizzie pulled an ultimatum: it's either her or me. andrew took his time deciding before she told him get back here you and he went running back- to her, and to the bottle. of course he had stopped during the short time we were together, because i gave him all my worth. my gravity. i cried and also fell back into drinking. i drank and drank and drank 'til, with a deadpan expression, i found myself in the bathroom pouring cups of water on my head, except ten years later i'm still not sure if that actually happened or not.
when she dumped him a week later, or however long it took, i felt so self-satisfied. i felt closure.

it happened again with another guy and a 'friend' two years later. i felt no satisfaction. i felt like a sad and frightened child left alone on a subway platform. i felt self-righteous over how inconsiderate they were to me during a time during which i needed support. i stopped the world for two years thereafter.
it happened again this past summer. it completely broke me because i thought i was past whatever i was doing to perpetuate the cycle. i'm still working on moving on. here's the difference: i know what it is i'm trying to move past now. not the boy (per se), but my old patterns. i cherish the ground on which i walk now. i'm devoted to my passion for the dirt and for life.

lizzie (and many of andrew's ex-gfs) and i became friends that mistrusted each other but made fun of andrew all the time. the last time we spoke with one another we were playfully one-upping the bad drug experiences of one another via text. that was like nine years ago. since then, i've turned pink, purple, and sky blue, but mostly forest green and clear.
i've moved on from being split between pluto and mercury to all the planets between- made it past the sirens and their riddles at the asteroid belt, still in shock that i was able to do that. i never understand their riddles but apparently have the answers. it doesn't matter nearly as much whether i'm a bastard or not, just that i know how to cope when i start spinning backwards.

my name is earth and i am stronger than i'm given credit for.