EpickBlonde666

hide the cathexis within the grime of the earth; a wild mixture that will smudge your pretty little eyes and leave your soul aching for everything starlight promised when the skies were dark.

    I sighed to myself, just as my mother would have had she been sitting in my car driving along State Road 19. The startling problem I had at this point was the fact I was entirely like her. The woman that had sent me on a one way road to Hell, the person I swore to the smallest stars I would never become, and yet here sat the replica of the 17 year old Monica Renee Withers. It was a damn shame that I had wasted away into a terrible wastrel. My brother turned the radio down, reclining in the passenger seat.    "What's your deal?" I asked, flicking the end of my cigarette out the window. Romantically, I loved smoking. I coughed, rolling up

    "You are not beautiful."    I can still hear the way my mother's emphatic voice told my five year old self that I was not the definition of beauty. "And don't you go around and let those country boys say you are. Because they will do anything to get what they want." My brother, who at the time was seven, would turn toward me and shake his head. In my innocent mind, it didn't matter; beauty wasn't a concept I understood. I didn't understand that beauty is the sunrise every morning or the dew droplets on the grass, and I definitely didn't understand that I could be it.