It was so weird when it was just me, you and my slutty alter ego, because we never could look each other in the eyes, afraid of what we might find there. We wanted to go to wonderland where the sky is tie-dye and it rains ecstasy, and the ground is pot, and all the mirrors are broken, we wanted to paper our walls with the faces of all the dead beauty queens and murdered ballerinas. Everything was going to be all right, even if it wasn't

We’d sit on the couch, passing a joint between our fingers, writing poetry on rolling papers, and licking bottle caps, talking about how the word 'fuck' somehow controls the universe. Everything was perfect, the way that it should be in some way, and we never noticed when they called us names and said that we were everything that how knows we weren't.

you laughed at how self conscious I was, and how i threw up after I ate. You never got mad over stupid stuff like that. And you smiled at how everyone stared at me but never said anything to me, and whispered when I walked away. You never cared that i was different and wore too much black eyeliner and white mascara.

I cried because I was afraid that one night you'd OD, and leave me all alone, and I’d have to fight off all the mean boys, who thought they could put their hands on me just because they could pronounce my name right. You never let them hurt me. And I’d stay up way too late worrying that something would happen to you, even though i knew that you were smarter than that, and that you'd never OD. You knew when to stop doing something. Even if you didn't want to.

And we'd watch as all the snobby girls flipped their hair, trying to get you to look. you just glanced in my direction and said that you were glad i wasn't like that. I was glad too. I never want to be a snob. I felt sorry for them though, people act like they like them then talk about them behind their backs, always trying to get the punk rocker boys' attention, and they never noticed them. and at the same time, I thought they deserved it. But maybe they can't help but be mean

I remember how I only felt pretty when I was wearing too much eyeliner and glitter. It meant so much more when you said it then when everyone else did. And I wanted to take you in with my eyes, and memorize every inch of you. I never was good and at remembering though.

You’d always help me up when I fell down, and scraped my knee or tore my new size 2 jeans. You were always worried that I’d kill myself someday. You said I was reckless and not afraid of anything, because I’d run out in front o cars and spin in circles in the middle of busy streets, and i always have been clumsy. But that wasn't all true, I was afraid of everything, i just never let anyone see how afraid i was.

your room was always lit by black lights and the walls were covered in neon paint and posters of Kurt Cobain and Bob Marley, and we'd sit up late at night, listening to tom Petty and thinking about how we should kill all the insufferable political assholes, and let the abandoned whores and stoners rule this country, lets face it, they’d be better leaders than the rich snobby assholes, because they know how the little people felt, and they wouldn't let this country go to hell.

I remember the time i told you that i wanted to be the kind of girl boys wrote rock songs about and you just picked up your guitar and told me that i already was. and the next day you gave me a cassette tape and a bouquet of roses, and you said that i was beautiful, and for some reason i wanted to cry. It always made me want to cry when boys were nice to me, because i was so used to them using me and leaving me in the rain.

you never did get angry when I told you I how I felt and for some reason, i believed it when you told me that you loved me. And i still haven't decided if that was the best thing or the worst that i ever could have done.