Louisa
Cherie and I were in my room that night. The door was closed. She was on my bed I was pacing the length of the room.
"its so damn frustrating I want to make her eat," I said.
"but you cant," Cherie pointed out.
I looked at her annoyed; "no I know that im not stupid."
"just like I cant make my mom stop drinkin. Its just how it is man."
"yeah well I don't like how it is."
"so what do you want me to do?"
"I don't know. Just. Be here and put up w/ my bitching."
"ok not a problem."
"I want to cut but I don't want you to be disappointed. Its so hard."
"yeah. I know. Listen I wont be disappointed I just wont like it."
"yeah but see that's the thing."
"what you want me to like it?"
"I didn't say that I just. Hate doing that to you."
"dude its not like you're doing drugs stop trippin out."
"yeah but…you love me. Right and you love me. And for the record. Ill love you whether or not you cut. Ill still love you even if you cut. I mean like I said I don't like it but…"
"well I mean. I do and I don't."
"yeah. I know. But…I sure as hell cant stop you. I want to be careful w/ you just like you want to be careful w/ me. And if that means taking you w/ your cuts then so be it."
I stopped looked at her; "wow really?"
"yeah its either I take you as you are or I don't take you at all. Wouldya stop pacing? You're making me crazy."
"oh um. Sorry."
"no I mean. whatever. Now cmere."
She stood and pulled me onto the bed. She turned on my cd player and don McLean's 'Vincent' filled the air.
"see doesn't it pull your stitching together?" Cherie said.
"yeah. It does. It, really does," I said quietly.