One way track

Mood: Tired
Lisiting to: When you were young -The Killers
Weather: Rainy

So, yesterday Scott finally went home for a bit.
About bloody time too, even though she was back sooner then I expected.

"What are you doing back so soon?" I asked, with a puzzled expression.
She nodded at me "Where's Witter?"
"Coleman needed him for a counsle." I raised an eyebrow at her.

I did have to admit, she looked better.
She didn't look as tired, and she was back in her everyday fancy clothes.
Black silk dress shirt, a gray pencil skirt, and red high heals.
How the girl can walk in thoes things I'll never understand, hell I trip in kicks for gods sake.

She sat down in her chair with a smile on her face, she pulled out a faded peice of paper from her purse and gave it to me.
"Take a look, I found it in my jewelry box."
I gave her a "what the hell?" kind of look and carfully opened the paper.

The words were written in pen, and the context almost made me choke.
It was my good-bye poem I wrote her when I was fifteen.
I wrote it the night I chose to try and take my own life.
I blinked back the tears and began to read each painful line my teenage soul could come up with.

One way Track:
My time has come
I have to grow, I have to run

I'll take a one way track

So with a heavy heart
I close my eyes, and we depart

I wont be back, it's a one way track

My heart bleeds as what I knew fades away
My mind reels, but I know this is the only way
To lose my past, my pain and dismay

My salvation is this one way track

Forgive me holy father, I know not what I do
Forgive me of my sins, I'm coming home to you

Along this one way track

Now I am no more then a memorie
Don't shed a tear for me
This is how it was ment to be

My turn in life ends, around the bend, on the one way track.



The night I wrote this, I was going to end it all.
I gave it to her as she left my house, I had everything ready.
I just couldn't do it, which hurt more then anything I was feeling before that moment.
Scott never knew what my real intentions with this poem were, she thought I was just in a dark creative mood.
No, the poem isn't very visual or insiteful of the level of pain behind the words, but that was the point.
She couldn't worry if it was farily harmless, but still the point was made.

My head swam with that emitons that came flooding back to me.
I can't believe she kept this, why would she? Why'd she have to show it to me now? This is one point in my past that I never wanted to relive.
I did everything to forget it, and I did good, until now.

My eyes filled with tears, tears from the old sting of the pain, from all self-loathing I used to feel, and tears the current regret that now filled me.
I never really wanted to die, but when I was younger I saw no other way out.
Yeah, I drank, I cut myself, all that typical rebellious teenage jazz, but it left me worse then what I was.
I used that pain, chanelled it into writting. Stories, poems and songs.
I took up music, I needed things I could lose myself in.
Eventually none of it worked.
So everything boiled down to that night.
But...I was just too afride.
Which just made me hate myself even more.

"Shannon?" I shook my head, I got completely lost in my daze, I forgot Shay was still there. I looked up at her, and it wasn't until then I noticed I was crying.
Oh, lovely.
"Whats wrong" She asked. "Are you sore?" She was ready to jump out of her chair and go get Greg or Coleman.
Shake it off, it was along time ago, forget about it. I scolded myself

"Naw, I'm okay. Just I forgot I worte this" I tried my best to laugh and tossed the paper aside.
She stood up, and the look she gave me told me she knew. She knew then, and she knows now.
"Not as strong as you thought you were" She mused with a smug smile.
My eyes norrwed and I just shrugged it off.

She turned up my morphine for me, cause I actually was in quite a bit of phycial pain....you know having your leg ripped open can cause that.
I watched her sit back down, thoes brown eyes drilled into my eyes, and I couldn't help but wonder what she saw in them.
I kept her stare for a while, until the drugs made it impossibal to stay coherant.
I fell into a groggy slumber, in some ways thankful to be able to sleep this trip down memoy lane off.