poem i made (it's bad)

If Happiness is a wrong
then to God I'm a sinner
And if Depression is losing
then suppose I'm a winner

What if insignificance is bliss
then I guess you're alright
And if ignorance is okay
I just might be uptight

If you aren't feeling well
I've gotta' be here for you
You're not part of a waiting list
Not the next song on my queue

Listen to me
I Care
Even tho

I may not always be like you
Baby, I know.

An Unholy Sunday Afternoon 8 O'Clock

8 O'Clock
"Oh, yes there was a man who came by before."
Everyone was settled in, and the conversations had started. Jules and Caroline were talking about something quietly while Sophie mentioned the man she had seen
"It was the strangest thing, I swear!"
"Well, what did he say to you?" Casey asked with a bit of amusement in her voice. Such an idea!
"He asked me at least twice to make sure that I was alright!" Sophie answered, as if it was the oddest thing.
"Perhaps he thought you were someone else?" Deardra interjected. Sophie thought for a moment, spinning her glass while looking deep in thought.
"No, I swear he knew exactly who I was, or at least, who he wanted me to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it wasn't he who was confused. I was! After he was done, I asked him who he was, but he only smiled and left! What an odd thing it was, I swear."
"Did he seem dangerous?" asked Michelle, finally joining in. Georgia and Beatrice were whispering something to each other and giggling.
"I mean, my knowledge of such things, working in the hospital and all, where more than one woman has come in bruised up quite nicely, made me a bit wary, but not at first, no. When I saw him through the peak hole I thought he was going to ask for a cup of sugar or something."
The girls laughed. Nobody took it too seriously, this odd man. Sophie didn't seem so apprehensive about it, leading the giggling that ensued. It was all folly on Sunday, no seriousness allowed, it seemed.
Much more time passed with various stories of similar magnitude. The most compelling was Casey's story of hiding her cat from her landlord when he came to her apartment inquiring of all the fur on the furniture. She had been quite clever, saying that she had been at her sisters house in Queens where they had three cats. The suspicious landlord even went as far as to ask for the cat's names and the address of her sister's residence, but Casey yelled at him thoroughly while standing in front of a cupboard where her cat started purring. It was all very funny, very brave of her.
And then a phone rang. Phones were off limits on the Sunday meetings; no distractions from the important conversation. Julia looked more than disappointed as the ringing continued, when finally Georgia realized that it was her phone.
"Oh my, I'm so sorry! I need to keep my phone on, what with my father and all." The girls nodded in understanding, all except Julia. Sophie could have sworn that she saw her rolling her eyes, but she didn't dare mention it. Everyone went silent as Georgia answered the phone.
"Yes, hello? Yes, this is her."
There was a pause, the only sound the music in the background and babbling coming from the bedazzled cell phone. Georgia's face became more serious as the time went on.
"When did it happen?" Everyone began to assume the worst, Beatrice holding her hand to her chest in shock.
"Alright, yes. No, I'll come over after I'm done here. I understand, mother, but-"
More mumbling, but it was louder than before.
"Mother, I'm just as devastated as you are, but goddammit, I'm going to enjoy my night!" She slammed her phone shut, some of the gems falling off. Everyone looked at her in surprise, never having seen such force displayed by Georgia.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sophie, I'll pick them up-"
"Don't worry about it, the cleaning lady comes tomorrow."
There was a silence while Georgia picked herself up from reaching down to pick up the gems.
"I'm so sorry, Georgia!" Beatrice cried. Everyone chorused with similar condolences.
"Thank you, everyone. It was his time; I'm alright, no really." Everyone continued while Julia sat back in her chair, focusing on her emptying wine glass. When the sympathizing started to calm down, everyone began to notice Julia's outward apathy, or was there a slight smile on her face?
"Julia!" whispered Michelle. Everyone heard it, but everyone still acted like they hadn't seen Julia.
"What?" responded Julia, so loud that it was obvious she wanted everyone to hear her.
"Julia, Georgia's father just died, is it wrong to show a bit a sympathy?" It was odd, that was the first time any of them actually said what had happened. Throughout it all, Georgia looked down at her purse, looking like something was going to come out and save her.
Why doesn't she leave? thought Sophie. It was so odd, torturing oneself.
"Well, what am I supposed to say when she's getting all the sympathy she needs in a check?"
No one said anything, the illusion that Julia had simply forgotten her manners vanishing. Georgia finally looked straight at Julia.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jules?" Her ferocity from the phone call was slowly returning. Julia continued to stay leaned back in her armchair, finishing her wine before answering.
"Oh do tell me you're kidding! We all know that that man left you more than enough to keep you set for life!"
"How dare you suggest that I wanted my father to leave us for money!"
Julia kept a smug look on her face, looking a bit more in disbelief each second. She poured herself some more wine. Sophie felt like she should take the bottle from her; she wasn't welcome any more.
"I'm not saying you'd sell him, my dear. I'm just trying to make sense of why anyone would take pity in someone with such compensation-" Georgia stood up, slamming her wine glass on the coffee table.
"You think you can walk in here and say you know me! You're an old bitch, trying to bask in your fleeting youth while keeping us in awe of your ever-growing wisdom!" It was surprisingly articulate for an anger speech, but Sophie had a feeling that Georgia had thought about it before.
"I know you better than you seem to think, child!"
"Oh, I'm a child, now am I!"
"I suggest that you leave, Julia," said Michelle, surprising everyone.
"Oh, look at this! Everyone ganging up on your only connection to common sense!"
"That's enough, Julia!" Michelle stood up now.
"Well, alright then, if that's what you wish." She put down her glass and gathered her purse and glasses. She finally stood up, and Sophie heard her whisper something under her breath.
"What's that Julia? You're going to insult me now! You have quite the nerve!" she exclaimed, answering the mutter. Georgia sat back down, looking dizzy. It was the two of them under focus, and all eyes were trained on the scene. It was quite a sight, a group of sophisticated women in expensive dresses all watching a fierce exchange.
"Well, I wouldn't dare insult the great Michelle! Everyone likes the funny one who gives the great advice, meanwhile she herself can't keep her marriage under control! I've heard your husband had quite a fancy for the twenty year-olds."
"Fuck you!" shouted Michelle, and she lashed at Julia. Her eyes flashed open wide in shock as she fell from the unexpected shove. It was like slow motion as Michelle covered her mouth with her hands while Julia's head bashed into a lamp and then the table supporting it.
No one moved, and the music continued. Sophie saw Julia's blood on the corner of the table, and tears started to roll down Michelle's cheek.
It was 8:59.

An Unholy Sunday Afternoon 7 O'Clock

"Alright," she said to herself. They were coming, and she sat on a chair next to the door waiting for them. Is this what I've come to? she thought.
The music in the background was the only thing she heard; it was like a silence. The time passed slowly, but she finally heard a knock on the door. Sophie jumped up and pushed the chair under the table. One pat down of her conservative dress, and she opened the door.
It was Michelle, wearing a big smile. Oh, thank god it was her. Sophie didn't know if she could be alone in a room with any of the others, but Michelle was always early.
"Hi!" Michelle said. She held out her arms for a hug, and Sophie accepted.
"Come in, come in. Everything's set and ready," Sophie said. "We'll wait for the others at the couch. Would you like some wine?"
"Yes, please." Sophie widened her eyes to find her wine-glass filled with ice was still on the upper counter. She shoved it where Michelle couldn't see and took out the clean glasses.
"Are you holding out on me? Whaddaya' got back there?" Sophie blushed.
"No, no, just wine is all." She lifted up the bottle in proof. Michelle shrugged and sat on the couch, laying her clutch next to the lamp on the table beside her. "Your place is beautiful, as always."
"Thank you, let's break this bottle before the vultures get at it." Sophie popped it open and brought it over with the glasses.
"Oh, honey, let's face it. We are the vultures." They laughed at themselves and drank until a polite, yet strong, knock was heard.
They looked at each other in a moment of understanding.
"Jules," they both said, laughing again. Julia was the oldest of the ladies group, and it seemed she had taken position of head elder, or so Sophie thought. She held her a head a bit higher, made her voice a bit louder, acted a little ruder, simply because she could. It seemed that everyone was a little afraid of her, although Sophie couldn't imagine what they were afraid of. Nevertheless, when she opened the door, she made sure not to get in Julia's way.
"Hello, Sophie," she greeted politely.
"Hello, Michelle and I were waiting at the couch for the others." She began to walk inside.
"Everyone is quite late if it's just you too." Sophie didn't know quite how to take that.
"Yes, well, it's only twenty of." Julia didn't answer, but instead poured herself a glass of wine with a glass she spotted on the counter. The wine disappeared before she poured herself another and went to sit.
"Hey, Julia, how's everything?"
"Fine, I suppose."
Another knock saved them.
This time it was Georgia and Beatrice. Soon after the others came, Caroline, Casey, and Deardra. Sophie brought out the rest of the wine glasses, and all was ready for the night of fun.
"Oh, Sophie, stop being so worried about everything and sit with us!"

An Unholy Sunday Afternoon 6 O'Clock

6 o’clock

They would be coming at seven.

The coats still sat on the floor, but Sophie finally realized how much time had passed and started to hang them up. They were coming at 7:30, a half hour later than usual. Georgia needed to visit her father in the hospital before coming. Everyone told her that she didn’t have to come, but she insisted. She said she needed to keep her life moving. Sophie thought that this was a little silly, considering that Georgia worked from seven in the morning to six thirty. Moving? Running, more like it.

Meanwhile, Sophie was at a stand still. The plates were already set out, waiting to be filled pre-cut cheese and expensive crackers. Sophie didn’t like hosting the group, it felt like everything had to be done exactly right, that if it wasn’t, the others would give her a dirty look. One time Frances gave her just that after noticing that Sophie hadn’t turned on the music. Sophie became paranoid from there on, always turning on the classical crap they pretended to enjoy an hour early.

What was it tonight? She didn’t even bother to check what composer she was playing. She made a playlist long ago filled with the music, and pressing play on the computer was refreshingly easy.

Wine waited, un-opened, on the counter, but she went in the fridge to find her personal bottle. She filled her over-sized glass with ice before pouring in a generous amount. It was her guilty-pleasure, ice in chilled wine before the ladies came over. Something about room-temperature drink made her feel uneasy, and she knew for a fact that most of the women drank far more than she did before their 7 O’Clock hang-outs.

She heard a knock at the door. The clock on the wall read 6:37, so who could it be? She walked to the door and looked through the eyehole. It was a man wearing a black suit. His hair was neatly parted and slicked. His eyes were hidden behind black glasses, and other than that he seemed quite handsome. Sophie didn’t have reason to be worried about the man in the suit, so she pulled the door open, not before fixing her hair.

“May I help you?”

The man didn’t answer at first, but instead he picked his head in past the threshold very slowly. Sophie politely pulled her body away from his head. When he stood straight again she asked him again.

“Sir, how may I help you?” This time he answered.

“How are you, ma’am?” She was taken back by the casual feeling she felt coming from the voice, such a contrast with his strict atmosphere.

“I’m alright, I suppose. How are you, sir?” She still held the door, although now she kept it a little closer.

“Everything seems fine. Are you sure that you are alright?” His answer confused her.

“Yes, I’m quite sure!”

“Well, thank you for your time, miss.” She watched him walk to the elevator and press a button. She realized that he was leaving and ran out into the hallway.

“Who are you?”

He gave a polite smile to her as the doors closed.

She walked back inside the apartment to find that it was 7 O’clock. How long was she talking to the man? She thought a minute or two at most, but twenty minutes had passed. She shut her door again and left herself to be alone. Everything was set, and she decided to push the man from her mind and endure the evening.

(7 oclock coming most likely on tuesday)

An Unholy Sunday Afternoon (5 O'Clock)

( A lengthy short story I'm writing. I don't know how many more parts there will be, but they aren't very long in section, so please come and check them out!
5 O’Clock

It was a Sunday, and that meant the ladies were coming over.

She nudged the door open with her knee. Keys dangled from her teeth, and various outer-wear lay strewn across the floor. She would pick it up when the milk was in the fridge, it was determined. The hallway to her apartment was pale, but somehow pleasant. The light pink frills that accented the generally peach walls gave it a little extra. That was all Sophie needed, just a little extra.

She dragged what she was carrying inside, dropping everything to race the milk to the fridge. It had been too long. What, with the train, with her mother… No, it was Sunday. The most worrying of thoughts would be which wine she preferred, surely not her over-bearing mother. The fridge slammed satisfyingly, leaving Sophie in the silence of her apartment.

No one. She was alone there, and she didn’t have any reason to believe it would change. Perhaps her mother was right, it was time to-

The elevator dinged, and she remembered her clothes in the hallway, feeling embarrassed. She gathered her things as the person got out, but she quickly shut her door so she could deal with the mess in privacy. That was one thing she did like, privacy. No judgement. Who cared if she picked up her jackets an hour after she brought them inside? As long as they were on the rack when guests walked inside, it was Sophie’s secret.

Her apartment had one bedroom, a spacious living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom in the bedroom. It was suitable, affordable. She could afford more, and she would be fine with less space also, but it seemed that this way her money was steady. Everything was steady, except maybe the left chair in the kitchen. She could have had it repaired easily; she could buy a whole new set of chairs if she wished, but in all of this she found peace, even in discomfort.

She sat in the rackety chair and rocked back and forth. The hour passed by quickly, Sophie only rocked on her chair and waited for her guests to start coming, when she would have to actually clean up.