HUGE TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS AND MENTION OF SUICIDE if you can't read, it's okay, tune in next time and take care of yourself.

Jaz wasn't exactly sure what she wanted to do.

No, she was sure. However, someone as painfully far from the art of the written word as Sadie would not like going to a poetry slam in general, much less as a date.

But still, Jaz continued to write, even though her parents had forbidden that subtle and delicate art that had kept Jasmine Maia Anderson alive for as long as she had been.

She knew that Sadie would empathize with the fact that slam poetry had been what was used to tell her story. But no one besides Jaz knew that she still writes.

So, she wrote the last line and put the notebook in the back of her closet, where the old backpacks she hadn't used since kindergarten sat. There was nothing in the dusted depths of the corner in the closet. At least not to her parents.

Her parents, who remained blissfully unaware of the way their words hurt.

She looked back at the closet. Jaz wanted to share that.

So, an hour before the date, Jaz copied her work from the paper to a text.

ya like jazz?: I wrote a poem lmk if it's good:

Jasmine Maia Anderson.

Why are you like this, Jasmine Maia Anderson?

Was I not enough for you, Jasmine Maia Anderson?

Did my sacrifices mean nothing, Jasmine Maia Anderson?

What did I do to deserve this?

Jasmine Maia Anderson.

Why are you throwing everything away, Jasmine Maia Anderson?

After all of the pain

That I went through for you?

Jasmine Maia Anderson, I refuse to let that go to waste

Put the pen down, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

Jasmine Maia Anderson abstract metaphors can not be a career

not after all of the gears

that I turned in spite of you, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

Put the book away, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

Why are you crying, Jasmine Maia Anderson?

I've done nothing but help you,

Nothing but love you,

Nothing but want you to live.

Don't you dare look at me like that, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You know nothing of true pain, Jasmine Maia Anderson,

I know true pain.

I know pain more painful than pain.

Your pitiful meaning of pain is nothing

compared to what I went through.

You will put that god damn pen down, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will be a good girl, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will learn to cook, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will get good grades, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will learn to write scholarly essays, Jasmine Maia Anderson

You will learn to sing, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will learn to dance, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You will learn to act and do math,

You will stay on this path

That I have paved for you.

You are a failure, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

You can not separate vivid dreams

From the real realities of reality

Your life is not a book, Jasmine Maia Anderson.

My life is not a book.

I agree.

But my life is not learning to cook.

My life is running within the crooks

and crannies of slits of my walls.

It's there where my life is.

My life is not math.

My life is the vivid memories and metaphors

of scenarios and telephone

calls in the depths of my mind.

My life is not what you want my life to be.

My life will never be what you want my life to be.

My life is me.

the best person ever: holy shit

the best person ever: when did you learn to write like that?

ya like jazz?: it comes with time, you know?

the best person ever: have you ever shared it before

ya like jazz?: I have not

ya like jazz: loving the name you've given me, btw

the best person ever: okay, but you like poetry?

ya like jazz?: lmao yeah

the best person ever: I do too! I love the poetry slam kind of poetry. The ones that talk about the shitty things in life like Exes by Jessica Romoff and Mila Cuda

ya like jazz?: I love Exes!

the best person ever: would you be okay with going to a spoken word poetry thing tonight?

ya like jazz?: hell yeah.

-

Alex had just discovered Exes. Unlike Jaz and Sadie, it wasn't something he was happy about.

After a while, he'd turned it into a game. How many parallels could Alex see? Oh, look, there's one. The thing was that every time he caught a similarity, his heart continued to sank, and his mind slowly began to slow and spiral.

It wasn't a very fun game.

It wasn't really fun back then either, wasn't it? Being afraid every time there was an argument that Alex had crossed a line and that Adrian would actually go through with it.

But, Alex took a nap, and in the next hour, more of his memories of Adrian fuzzed together.

It scared the shit out of him.

-

The good thing about going to see the spoken word is that everyone who attends as a guest is required to look like an indie-pop singer.

Luckily, that was all Sadie had in her closet.

Sadie was never much a writer or an enjoyer of that profound, nuanced poetry they showed in class.

That was why she was surprised when Here in America popped up on her YouTube. She was even more surprised when she fucking loved it.

She'd continued to look for more poems like those. She really liked Why Are Muslims So? She especially liked how the girls were not afraid to call out New Brave Voices on their blatant disrespect on how diverse the association claimed to be, yet will set one of the most significant slam dates on Eid.

So, Sadie was more than happy to acquaint herself with more poets with similar styles and skillsets. She was even more delighted that Jaz was along for the ride.

Sadie was not happy about Jaz's poem, however. But, Sadie figured that would be a discussion to have in person.

-

Jaz immensely enjoyed the spoken word; she even got up on the stage and read her poem aloud. She was then invited to a slam and promptly declined.

And the date was going perfectly. The two even held hands on one of the comfy couches.

But then Sadie brought up the poem.

"So, I heard it again," Sadie said as they began to walk back toward the subway. "I just can't help but wonder if you're okay. It sounds draining to be in that kind of environment."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," Jaz lied.

"That's such bullshit, talk to me."

So she did. They talked until they had to depart at the second stop of the subway.

Sadie was the one who asked for a kiss, and Jaz wasn't ready for that yet, so they ended the date with a hug and a promise to share more poems.

-

Magnus,

I am very much aware of the fact that it is literally Saturday as I write this, and you probably will never see this letter.

That doesn't matter; I just need to get this down on paper.

Here's the poem of the day:

Good morning!

How did you sleep?

I couldn't stop thinking about you.

You're so sweet.

So what did you do last night?

Homework.

Why couldn't you FaceTime?

Hey!

How's your day been?

Better if it was with you. How was school?

Good. I got partnered up with my friend Jake for a bio project.

Who's Jake?

Good morning! I love you!

I miss you!

When can I see you?

I'm still grounded.

Can you sneak out?

Hey!

What are you doing right now? Can you come over?

Sorry, I'm going over to Mila's.

Is anyone else gonna be there?

Just some friends from school.

Like Jake?

I don't know, maybe.

I bet you'll have more fun with him.

Hey.

Are you mad?

Why haven't you gotten back to me?

Hello?

Are you with Jake?

"You have reached the voicemail box of..."

Where are you? Why are you ignoring me?

"You have reached the voicemail box of..."

Why are you doing this to me?

"You have reached the voicemail box of..."

I still have the pills, you told me to get rid of them, I'm gonna do it!

Hey, I'm so sorry, my phone died. I didn't bring my charger to school. Are you okay? Please call me when you get this!

Hey!

Did you get any of my messages? I'm so sorry.

If you're sorry, why don't you send me a picture that'll cheer me up?

I'm at dinner with my family...

You can run to the bathroom.

I don't know, maybe later?

Not now? You owe it to me!

I don't think I can do this...

Are you breaking up with me? I can't live without you!

I just don't want this anymore...

Sunshine, I need you, you're the only person I care about!

I don't wanna be with you...

I bet you never even loved me!

It's too much for me...

If you break up with me I'll kill myself!

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you there?

You have reached the voicemail box of...

Please don't do this...

I love you.

There are teenage girls everywhere being taught that this is love.

Love is not putting your partner's satisfaction before your own safety.

Love is not jealousy dressed as protection.

Love is not confusing your body for his midnight snack.

Love is not being forced into anything!

Even when he has you convinced that you want this!

I thought my spread legs could heal his broken.

I sacrificed my comfort in an attempt to comfort him.

Even after he begged me to get him off in a parking lot.

Even after he forced his hand up my skirt in a movie theater.

Even after I said no.

We are taught to swallow our protests in exchange for his apology.

When I miss him, I miss only the warmth. I do not think about the burn marks.

The mornings that I could not keep my breakfast down.

Mistaking anxiety for butterflies.

In our first two months together, I lost sixteen pounds to palpitations and weak stomachs.

Whenever my phone rings at night, I still think it's his 2am suicide calls.

Every time my phone vibrates, I still lose my appetite.

When my friends ask me why I stayed so long, why I accepted the roses and ignored the thorns.

I tell them, it is not easy to weed out the roots he planted in me,

I tell them, I was so captivated by the house he built for me,

I didn't notice the locked door.

I didn't notice I was captive to this garden of guilt.

I tell them, I tried leaving.

But he held the gun to his head, and I feared my escape would've been what pulled the trigger.

We are tired of this guilt.

This guilt that must mean girls

With unrecognizable victims.

Who fell in love with a warning sign.

If his fists ever meet your face,

Do not confuse it for sparks flying.

Or your body will bloom in bruises.

There is nothing romantic about a bouquet of black eyes!

I am tired of holding thorns!

Baby!

Did you never feel the blood between our held hands?

Or did you just mistake it for tears of your own?

Because of you,

"The number you dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. Goodbye."

Jessica Romoff and Mila Cuda

It's meant to be heard, but still a fantastic poem.

But I'm seeing a lot of similarities between this and Adrian, and it scares me.

Over time, I've lost so many memories of him, and every time I try to revisit them, only bad things return.

Like, I went through our texts last night, and I found him threatening to kill himself after my phone had died.

I forgot all about that, but I remembered how often it happened after reading that.

I want to keep trying to find out more. Did he ever hurt me physically or sexually, and my brain just deleted it for safety, but do I really want to know?

But he committed suicide while we were dating, so there must have been something else going on that I just don't remember, and I want to remember.

But, my brain must have trauma-erased for a reason.

I just need help.

-Yours, Alex.

hello my violation beans welcome to random tangents with gabby

here, y'all get a half-assed chapter with a poem

i've only ever written poetry once before, so it probably isn't the best

I will go into more detail on the date later. Trust me, I have a plot thing that will help with that.

anyway, exes is meant to be heard, so if you'd like the full effect, look it up. I didn't write that, I only wrote Jasmine Maia Anderson.

If you would like some slam poetry recommendations, tell me and I shall give them to you

also, you can tell I wrote the actual chapter part in, like, 5 minutes just because I wanted to post another chapter

just watched a movie about football and as someone who knows nothing about football, I was very confused.

that's really it. 

hope you liked the rushed chapter and I promise I will go back in time in a later chapter (probably 2ish chapters from now) and get into greater details on the date and how they bonded. 

that's it

love y'all