Instead, after ten minutes of simply sitting there, I reach into my backpack and grab my journal, flipping through the pages for something to grasp on to.

if a whisper is all I have left of you

then I will never make a noise

I will live in silence

if it means your voice will sing in my ears

I turn the page.

never did I know a heart can ache

for a soul it cannot see

yet when an arrow slices me open

blood pours from my veins in the form of you

I turn the page.

the world swore to me

you would always return

this is the promise that echoes

in the abyss of my head

when I cannot find relief

It’s funny in retrospect. All these poems are a product of watching too many TV shows and reading too many books, sympathizing with characters to the point that they inspired words from me. Only recently was I able to put my own story on the page. But none of those poems fit right now.

I reach for a pen and force myself to think past the ringing in my ears, the heartbeat thudding too hard in my chest. My hands shake as I write in messy loops of cursive.

I’m drowning out of water, I’m burning out of fire

I was young and I was bold, I am different, I am cold

my heart no longer beats in tune to the universe

kept under lock and key, every step is a luxury

the ghost of my future haunts me at every turn

I miss the stars that used to live in my eyes

no longer do I dance under the moon

my knuckles are bruised and bloody from fighting

from surviving a battle I was destined to lose

a knife dangles over my head, on the precipice

I am h u n g r y

but I am scared of wanting ever again

—death is desire, k.m.a.

Desire certainly feels like death. Why would anyone want anything if it means risking this feeling when it doesn’t work out?

I don’t have the answer.

When the bell rings again, I contemplate just sitting here and letting what happens happen. But again, the fear of my parents being called spurs me into action, and I head for APUSH with my shoulders slumped.

I’m almost there when I see a familiar figure across the hallway. My eyes lock with Ace’s, and his expression breaks with relief. “Karina, there you are. I’ve been looking for—”

No, no, no.

I can’t do this.

I can’t look Ace in the eye and tell him I tried and it wasn’t enough. I can’t do it.

I can’t relive that moment again.

“I’m sorry.” I look away, hurrying inside my classroom, where he can’t follow.