Shizzle
Went out to dinner with the fam. Thinking of doing this movie group thing moveon.org is propsing. I managed to recover my story I wrote. Check it out. Lemme know whatcha think. All honest criticisms honoured.
You know, sometimes, you just see something so tragic it breaks your heart, yet it has nothing to do with you. You know exactly what all those emotions are running through the heads, you know how sweaty and clammy the palms are. You know the feeling that your heart is in your throat, you touch your face just to know it’s really happening. You can just place yourself there, and experience all that richness, the vividity. It seems like a lucid dream, but everything is what’s considered normal, aside from the thundering sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You know this. You’ve been here before. You think you know what’s coming, but it never turns out that way. It’s always such a big disappointment and sometimes you grieve over that, more than the actual event. You know you’ll get over it, but your current mind set is telling you it’s the end of your happiness, and nothing like this can ever happen again, so you’re leaving. There’s such an ambiguity with the way your brain is thinking, or in some cases, not thinking at all. You try to see you can rise above it, but you focus instead on the pain and the sheer rawness of everything around you, and how much it hurts. You want it to stop, but no pain is this exquisite, and everything is beautiful. Even what hurts the most. You focusfocusfocus, and all you do is stare, you don’t move, you barely breathe, but you think. Your mind is overflowing with image relations, but no enough words to satiate your need of description. Not enough adjectives to fill in the blanks. You revert back to the simplest thought processing, and sometimes stopping to analyze your reflection from your saline covered fingertips. Everything is so real, and there’s no doubt this is real, and you spiral farther and farther to wondrous heights and for a minute you almost forget that this is something wrong. You rip yourself apart, starting from the inside, not even thinking of how you’re going to rebuild yourself if you can. You crashfallburndiedelete and you’re alone; you realize it. Everything is wrong, everything is ugly, especially yourself. You can’t bear to look even at the hands that minutes ago were caressing your face, subconsciously comforting. You scream, internally/externally. Where are you going from here. What are you doing. What’s wrong with meistheresomethingwrongwithmeohgodthere’sgottobesomethingwrongwithmeit’sallmyfaultallmyfaultmyfault…You want to be alone, but there’s no one you can count on except yourself. If you trust someone this much, and this is what you get, how can anyone else be different. You search for something wrong with you, you don’t know what it is, but you know you’ll find it if you look hard enough. You pick out each ad every single on of your flaws, outstanding and hidden. Things even you didn’t realize about yourself are now in plain view and you HATELOATHEDETESTABHORYOURSELF, and you’re not worth the waste of space, so you think to yourself, with all of this turningturining in your head, I’m such a wasteafailureI’mawaste, and you think of ending it all, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You pick up the gun, you sharpen the hair styling scissors, you knot the rope, you open the bottle, you look over the edge, and you something hits your brain, and it makes you stop. Your mind clears and everything settles down. You shaketrembletripstutter and you fall backwards, close your eyes, and think…why? Why did this happenwhymewhywhywhywhywhywhy, and you can’t find the answer. You know you can’t finish what you’ve started. Another thing to hate yourself for. You’re numb and you walk away. You pass out on the floor of your bedroom, with the doors locked. You don’t know how long you’ve slept for when you wake, but you hear the pounding of your heart in your ears again, and you start to reminisce and you SCREAM, but you’re alone, and no one’s going to help you. The phone rings. You don’t know what’s going on and you feel lost, but you still pick up, on the fifth ring, and it’s the person you trust the most, telling you it’sallrighteverything’sokyuo’llbefinedon’tworryit’snotyourfault and you KNOW it’s your fault. But somehow this little white lie helps you settlesettle. You have a mindless conversation, hang up, then a knock on the door, and it’s THAT person that made you hate yourself. You throw yourself into their arms and you apologize for everything you’ve ever done that’s been wrong and you start shakingingtremblingtrippingstuttering and all you can do is cry, it’s getting harder to breathe, and you think you’re going to die. They wipe your tears away, you open your eyes, concentrating on your reflection in those saline drenched fingertips, and you snapbreakspiraldown… and with a crack of the jaw, you hit the floor, and it’s gone. You open your eyes, seemingly years later, and you’re alone, you’re crying, you’re dead inside, and you give up. You’re pathetic.