Lament
by
James C. Bassett
I don’t mean to do it. I don’t mean to lash out. I just want someone to be my friend, a real friend. Someone who is interested in me — in me. Someone who wants to be my friend. But they never want to be my friend. It’s so lonely having everyone know your name. They only talk to me as a dare. I never mean to get angry. But no one ever thinks about me, about my feelings. No one cares about me. They’re only interested in meeting the legend, so they can impress their friends. It hurts so much.
I try so hard to ignore them. But then I think, what if this person really does want to talk to me. What if this is my chance for a real friend, but I turn my back on it? I’ve been disappointed so many times, but I always hope, and so I always give in.
I don’t mean to lash out. But when my hopes are dashed every time, it just hurts so much, and I can’t help it. I hurt them because they hurt me. Can’t they see how much they hurt me? I don’t want to do it. It hurts so much I just want to run away and hide. It feels like I’m always hiding. I like the darkness. Too much light shows how alone I am.
I’m so alone. I don’t want to miss any chance for a friend. I couldn’t bear the thought of missing what might be my one chance. So I can’t help answering whenever I hear my name. Because I keep hoping. Even though it’s always just a joke to them, and I feel so ashamed when I realise I’ve fallen for it again. So angry. So angry that people toy with me that way. I can’t help but lash out. I don’t mean to hurt them. But girls can be so cruel, so uncaring.
And someone is calling my name again now. I want to ignore her. But I’m so lonely, I know I’m going to give in. I can see her there, standing in the dark with a candle, her face earnest in flickering light. She looks like she could be a friend. Maybe she will be a friend. I so desperately want a friend. And she’s calling me. I hear her calling me.
“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”
James C. Bassett’s fiction has appeared in Amazing Stories, Leviathan 3, Coffin Bell, and many other publications around the world and online. He co-edited the anthologies Zombiesque and Clockwork Fairy Tales, and also is an award-winning stone and wood sculptor. He currently lives in Ireland
by
James C. Bassett
I don’t mean to do it. I don’t mean to lash out. I just want someone to be my friend, a real friend. Someone who is interested in me — in me. Someone who wants to be my friend. But they never want to be my friend. It’s so lonely having everyone know your name. They only talk to me as a dare. I never mean to get angry. But no one ever thinks about me, about my feelings. No one cares about me. They’re only interested in meeting the legend, so they can impress their friends. It hurts so much.
I try so hard to ignore them. But then I think, what if this person really does want to talk to me. What if this is my chance for a real friend, but I turn my back on it? I’ve been disappointed so many times, but I always hope, and so I always give in.
I don’t mean to lash out. But when my hopes are dashed every time, it just hurts so much, and I can’t help it. I hurt them because they hurt me. Can’t they see how much they hurt me? I don’t want to do it. It hurts so much I just want to run away and hide. It feels like I’m always hiding. I like the darkness. Too much light shows how alone I am.
I’m so alone. I don’t want to miss any chance for a friend. I couldn’t bear the thought of missing what might be my one chance. So I can’t help answering whenever I hear my name. Because I keep hoping. Even though it’s always just a joke to them, and I feel so ashamed when I realise I’ve fallen for it again. So angry. So angry that people toy with me that way. I can’t help but lash out. I don’t mean to hurt them. But girls can be so cruel, so uncaring.
And someone is calling my name again now. I want to ignore her. But I’m so lonely, I know I’m going to give in. I can see her there, standing in the dark with a candle, her face earnest in flickering light. She looks like she could be a friend. Maybe she will be a friend. I so desperately want a friend. And she’s calling me. I hear her calling me.
“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”
James C. Bassett’s fiction has appeared in Amazing Stories, Leviathan 3, Coffin Bell, and many other publications around the world and online. He co-edited the anthologies Zombiesque and Clockwork Fairy Tales, and also is an award-winning stone and wood sculptor. He currently lives in Ireland
