untitled ( part 1 )
There was a buzzing in her ears.
Jordan pulled the sleeping mask from her eyes and was blinded by the sunlight streaming through her crooked blinds.Her head pounded in pain and her mouth was dry and chapped.
There was a thickness in the room..so hot and heavy that it felt like she was being smothered by something invisible. She dreaded waking up.
It was like recovering from a deep addiction...a deep and cutting addiction you just dont want to let go of. The darkness was her safety...like a blanket of relief.
She peered at the clock. 1:27 pm. Too damn early.
Aimlessly she pulled away the covers. The heat rose from her body and foot by foot she stepped out of her depository...each step weaker than the one before. As she opened the door of her room, the once muffled sounds of the day were now roaring. Like a zombie she roamed her hallways...shutting the sunlight out the best she could. The floor creaked beneath her heavy steps, while she made her way closer and closer to alleviation.
The shower blasted cold water as the euphoria slowly dripped from her body. She sighed a sigh, so deep it made her dizzy. Black mascara ran down her face and flushed through her eyes. The stinging came, but to Jordan, it never made a difference. Her veins bulged as she coughed defenselessly. Water bounced between jutting ribs and cuts prickled in pain. A rusty razor lied upside down on the shower floor, marbling the water running beneath her feet. Laugh lines faded, black circles darkend, and the scabs failed to heal. Jordan was a specter of everything she hated. A product of self injustice. A victim of her own neglect.
Its not that Jordan's life was wanting or short-handed or bare. For one to have a wanting or short-handed or bare life, one would have never had any sort of a life before at all.
Jordan's life was just the oposite.
It was withering. It was cashing in and checking out.
Years ago, long before her memory was diluted by her (trying) life...Jordan was known for being the strong one of the family.
She was a light.
Her face duplicated one of a woman burning with satisfaction and intent all at once. She believed in goals and in truth and in understanding. She was the over achiever and the go getter. She lived with a hope that overwhelmed you, yet brought you reassurance at the same time.
And her heart. Oh, her heart.
As if she were the inventor...or the originator of what a heart should feel.
She felt love.
She felt trust.
She felt true contentment She felt empathy and humility.
Her heart..well..it simply..felt.
But just like a candle that has already been lit and has already charmed a dark room will go out......So does a soul.
As if a switch was flipped or a fire suddenly extinguished..day had turned into night...and reassurance had turned into complete chaos.
Her eyes revealed fresh, bleeding wounds and every part of bitterness and disappointment within her. The wax, used and melted. The retired black wick, brittle and in decaying condition.
Something cutting....something destructive....something damaging had suddenly marred her.
As Jordan stepped out of the shower and dried her body, she no longer felt proud of it...but ashamed. Ashamed of experiences and of the stories behind her bruises. The bathroom door opened and the sunlight again streamed in. Still blinding and stale as before....
Jordan pulled the sleeping mask from her eyes and was blinded by the sunlight streaming through her crooked blinds.Her head pounded in pain and her mouth was dry and chapped.
There was a thickness in the room..so hot and heavy that it felt like she was being smothered by something invisible. She dreaded waking up.
It was like recovering from a deep addiction...a deep and cutting addiction you just dont want to let go of. The darkness was her safety...like a blanket of relief.
She peered at the clock. 1:27 pm. Too damn early.
Aimlessly she pulled away the covers. The heat rose from her body and foot by foot she stepped out of her depository...each step weaker than the one before. As she opened the door of her room, the once muffled sounds of the day were now roaring. Like a zombie she roamed her hallways...shutting the sunlight out the best she could. The floor creaked beneath her heavy steps, while she made her way closer and closer to alleviation.
The shower blasted cold water as the euphoria slowly dripped from her body. She sighed a sigh, so deep it made her dizzy. Black mascara ran down her face and flushed through her eyes. The stinging came, but to Jordan, it never made a difference. Her veins bulged as she coughed defenselessly. Water bounced between jutting ribs and cuts prickled in pain. A rusty razor lied upside down on the shower floor, marbling the water running beneath her feet. Laugh lines faded, black circles darkend, and the scabs failed to heal. Jordan was a specter of everything she hated. A product of self injustice. A victim of her own neglect.
Its not that Jordan's life was wanting or short-handed or bare. For one to have a wanting or short-handed or bare life, one would have never had any sort of a life before at all.
Jordan's life was just the oposite.
It was withering. It was cashing in and checking out.
Years ago, long before her memory was diluted by her (trying) life...Jordan was known for being the strong one of the family.
She was a light.
Her face duplicated one of a woman burning with satisfaction and intent all at once. She believed in goals and in truth and in understanding. She was the over achiever and the go getter. She lived with a hope that overwhelmed you, yet brought you reassurance at the same time.
And her heart. Oh, her heart.
As if she were the inventor...or the originator of what a heart should feel.
She felt love.
She felt trust.
She felt true contentment She felt empathy and humility.
Her heart..well..it simply..felt.
But just like a candle that has already been lit and has already charmed a dark room will go out......So does a soul.
As if a switch was flipped or a fire suddenly extinguished..day had turned into night...and reassurance had turned into complete chaos.
Her eyes revealed fresh, bleeding wounds and every part of bitterness and disappointment within her. The wax, used and melted. The retired black wick, brittle and in decaying condition.
Something cutting....something destructive....something damaging had suddenly marred her.
As Jordan stepped out of the shower and dried her body, she no longer felt proud of it...but ashamed. Ashamed of experiences and of the stories behind her bruises. The bathroom door opened and the sunlight again streamed in. Still blinding and stale as before....