\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1884747-Too-Much
Item Icon
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #1884747
A depressed teenager writes his thoughts on the deaths of his 7 friends.
Tommy stuck the steel to the roof and pulled the trigger.
Oscar died in a car crash.
Omni flew through the windshield.

Marcus. Died in my arms. Leaving his daughter to a lone bowl of Lucky Charms.
Uriah. Omni’s girl. Purposely walked into traffic.
Crystal. Cute as can be. Was reckless. Drove into a tree.
Hanna. Sweet Sweet Hanna. Lost herself in a bottle of gin and Prozac.

Hello. My name is Adam and I’ve been left on this earth. The Lone Sole Survivor. Don’t wanna create anyone else so that we have to experience another loss of birth. I’m the only one left. Friends since pre-school. No more summers where we steal from 7/11 and sneak into the pool. No longer can I smoke dope without wanting to secure my neck with a rope. No longer can I go through a day without taking a swig of Jim and a snort of Coke. I’m only 17. Not old enough to go to war, but I’ve already seen plenty of my friends die. 1 in front of me. 2 in my arms. 3 to car wrecks. And 1 who could no longer take her boyfriend not being on her arm. Shit those two would’ve gotten married. Made babies who would’ve grown up happy. Had grandkids calling them Mami and Papi.

I just took another swig because this is all getting too sappy. Been 1 year since I’ve slept or have taken a Nappy. LOL a “Nappy”. Hanna always said that. She also always said we’d be together forever. Talking about our 13 grandkids and spoiling them stopping never. LOL Stopping. Just like I couldn’t stop Tommy from pulling the trigger. Couldn’t get to him fast enough while his tears got bigger and bigger. Like Marcus getting stabbed after confronting a White man after he called him a Nigger. My Best Friend. Story book ending if you ask me. Him clutching my hand and shushes were the only things I could give. As he said his final words “Live and let die, but don’t let die live”. Gone. Daughter with her Aunt. Now I’m so drunk I’m fucking with the font. Which one is perfect for Crystal? Ah. STENCIL. She always gave me a pencil in math class. Dumb as Fuck. But I protected her when dudes squeezed her ass. Love her to death. LOL I guess I can say that literally now. She was always up at 8 am to go shopping in town. Rich. So Rich. Used to love screaming out “I’m Rich Bitch!” but that’s gone too.

Damn. Bottle empty. Cracking a beer. LOL. Like Oscar and I used to. Big Oksie. Smallest guy I ever knew. Wasn’t supposed to be in that car, but went so he could get some gum to chew. Miss ya boy. Miss yall soo much that I feel like seeing death myself. Shit, already tried that. Now I remember why I’m in this hospital. Reporters coming in day and night. Biggest story in the country. Second biggest in the world. The Transition in Pakistan just ended though. Might be moving up. They all ask the same questions. “How do you feel? What will you do now? How old are you? Why not a smile? Forget the frown. Why try to kill yourself? What was it like to see death? Etc. All I could say was that this is all Too Much…Too Much.
© Copyright 2012 Brunhofer (mattbrun at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1884747-Too-Much