Know that when i winch, i'm only ridding myself of the poisin in my mind
hey. i had a weird day. i didnt really feel like doing anything. or talking to anyone. then liz called. and she told me to write. i decided to write about goodbye. so i did..you dont have to read it. i really dont care if you do or not. but its up for anyone who does.
The sweet embrace of nothingness took over her as she wept. Wept not for the people that had died that year, not for the love that she had lost, not for the friends and the family that had felt like they had lost her, but for herself. For once in her life she decided that she had had enough of wallowing in other people’s pity and sympathy. She wanted, just this once, for someone to look at her and for someone to say, ‘are you okay’?
She set an array of candles, small, tall, and scented with heartaches and ecstasy. Lined them up in a way only she knew. She was in a trance. As if something was leading her towards these places in which she should set her candles. Some places she understood. The table next to her bed where others had once lay. Others, who some she loved, some she used as a way to escape the world, which she felt, were taking her over. The desk upon which her laptop laid where she had written ballads, love melodies, poems, both angry and swollen with her dark, empty heart.
Once the candles were in place she took out the matches from the restaurant that her and her parents had visited just days ago. Fire was her element she’d always thought. Her escape pattern always ended up in a design of fire, burning something in her life while another memory from her past crept up out of her closet. Another skeleton she’d stashed away not forgetting, nor forgiving of. On her knees she bent, lighting each candle. The flame of the match caught her eye every time before lighting the wick, awaiting its muse. Next was the incense. Scented in a way she couldn’t explain, but it fit the mood perfectly. She ran her hands through the smoke arising from stick, watching it cling to her hand. She arose from the floor to slowly walk over to flick the light switch, as if walking quickly would awake her from this moment. She put in a mix of music, which imposed pain, death, and heartache.
She lay on her bed facing towards the ceiling, crossing her hands across her chest as an embalmer would do to the dead. Using all the peripheral vision she was equipped with, she looked around her room. The pictures taped so carefully to the wall. Remember the day her and a friend had spent almost three hours taping them all so perfectly and aligned to her once maple colored wall. The images of the pictures began to move, elaborating the story that was held inside of them. The people inside of the pictures moving forward as the rest of the day went after the picture was taken. She saw her childhood friends all smiling, including herself.
One of the pictures however, caught her eye the most. The picture had captured her alone, one she’d taken of herself, thinking she looked pretty in her own way. One she wanted to look at and remember that moment in which she felt like she was being herself. This was how she wanted to be. She was smiling in the picture, maybe it was just a mask she’d put on along with her new clothing, but she was smiling nonetheless. A figure that she had forgotten the feeling of. As soon as she began to almost smile herself, the picture began to move like the others. The honest truth of the moment blurred out into her head. After the picture was taken, all the memories afterwards, were the reason she was lying in her bed full of regrets and pain and sorrow.
She quickly looked away from the pictures. She’d had enough of the past, but she wasn’t ready for the future. She was never going to be ready for the future. Her eyes became slant slowly shutting out the world and finally closing all the way. Cutting out the images of her room and revealing only the darkness which lay inside her head.
Once her eyes were closed she let herself lie there for a while. Her brain began to role images into her eyes, using her eyelids as projectors. The films played on and on inside her head. Films of her with her once happy, sober mother running in circles. Films of her and her brother playing hopscotch in the playground. But they came short and quick, and she knew that the happy ones would soon be over. Soon came the pain pouring out from everywhere in her body. More films played. New films. Ones of her father and mother screaming from different areas of the stairways and hallways inside her house. A film of the day her father decided he would take a five year long, and still going, trip to the grocery store.
She couldn’t take it anymore, all the memories, the images, the stories tattooed into her head, her heart. She needed to leave her past behind. She needed out. She let the music pour out through her ears, now captivating her thoughts. Muffled screams and broken guitar strings blared out of the speakers. Finally ready, she stood up and ran over to her pictures ripping and tearing them from her wall. Screaming and ripping out her hair she covered the music, she blanketed the neighborhood with her blood curdling cries and screams.
She threw the pictures into the flames lighting her room with multicolored blurs of once happy memories all now blended into one hovering flame. The tears poured out of her eyes, acidly and full of the feelings once stored in her head. She stopped as she reached for the picture that’d caught her eyes moments ago. She grabbed it, putting it in her pocket, and stood there. Noticing what she’d just done. Once the fire grew, it blared towards her. She ran. She did not want her past to be her life. She wanted a future. A future full of forgiveness and love. Love that she was not shown in the past. She wanted to start anew. She opened her window and climbed out, picture in hand. That was all she needed all she needed to start over. Not once looking back she walked away from her room burning up in flames. Her fiery burning that was once inside of her now turning the shack she’d grown up into ashes. An infection spreading throughout the place she once called home. Her revenge. Her thoughts. Her pain. Her sweet corrosive goodbye.
anyway..have a good vaca
The sweet embrace of nothingness took over her as she wept. Wept not for the people that had died that year, not for the love that she had lost, not for the friends and the family that had felt like they had lost her, but for herself. For once in her life she decided that she had had enough of wallowing in other people’s pity and sympathy. She wanted, just this once, for someone to look at her and for someone to say, ‘are you okay’?
She set an array of candles, small, tall, and scented with heartaches and ecstasy. Lined them up in a way only she knew. She was in a trance. As if something was leading her towards these places in which she should set her candles. Some places she understood. The table next to her bed where others had once lay. Others, who some she loved, some she used as a way to escape the world, which she felt, were taking her over. The desk upon which her laptop laid where she had written ballads, love melodies, poems, both angry and swollen with her dark, empty heart.
Once the candles were in place she took out the matches from the restaurant that her and her parents had visited just days ago. Fire was her element she’d always thought. Her escape pattern always ended up in a design of fire, burning something in her life while another memory from her past crept up out of her closet. Another skeleton she’d stashed away not forgetting, nor forgiving of. On her knees she bent, lighting each candle. The flame of the match caught her eye every time before lighting the wick, awaiting its muse. Next was the incense. Scented in a way she couldn’t explain, but it fit the mood perfectly. She ran her hands through the smoke arising from stick, watching it cling to her hand. She arose from the floor to slowly walk over to flick the light switch, as if walking quickly would awake her from this moment. She put in a mix of music, which imposed pain, death, and heartache.
She lay on her bed facing towards the ceiling, crossing her hands across her chest as an embalmer would do to the dead. Using all the peripheral vision she was equipped with, she looked around her room. The pictures taped so carefully to the wall. Remember the day her and a friend had spent almost three hours taping them all so perfectly and aligned to her once maple colored wall. The images of the pictures began to move, elaborating the story that was held inside of them. The people inside of the pictures moving forward as the rest of the day went after the picture was taken. She saw her childhood friends all smiling, including herself.
One of the pictures however, caught her eye the most. The picture had captured her alone, one she’d taken of herself, thinking she looked pretty in her own way. One she wanted to look at and remember that moment in which she felt like she was being herself. This was how she wanted to be. She was smiling in the picture, maybe it was just a mask she’d put on along with her new clothing, but she was smiling nonetheless. A figure that she had forgotten the feeling of. As soon as she began to almost smile herself, the picture began to move like the others. The honest truth of the moment blurred out into her head. After the picture was taken, all the memories afterwards, were the reason she was lying in her bed full of regrets and pain and sorrow.
She quickly looked away from the pictures. She’d had enough of the past, but she wasn’t ready for the future. She was never going to be ready for the future. Her eyes became slant slowly shutting out the world and finally closing all the way. Cutting out the images of her room and revealing only the darkness which lay inside her head.
Once her eyes were closed she let herself lie there for a while. Her brain began to role images into her eyes, using her eyelids as projectors. The films played on and on inside her head. Films of her with her once happy, sober mother running in circles. Films of her and her brother playing hopscotch in the playground. But they came short and quick, and she knew that the happy ones would soon be over. Soon came the pain pouring out from everywhere in her body. More films played. New films. Ones of her father and mother screaming from different areas of the stairways and hallways inside her house. A film of the day her father decided he would take a five year long, and still going, trip to the grocery store.
She couldn’t take it anymore, all the memories, the images, the stories tattooed into her head, her heart. She needed to leave her past behind. She needed out. She let the music pour out through her ears, now captivating her thoughts. Muffled screams and broken guitar strings blared out of the speakers. Finally ready, she stood up and ran over to her pictures ripping and tearing them from her wall. Screaming and ripping out her hair she covered the music, she blanketed the neighborhood with her blood curdling cries and screams.
She threw the pictures into the flames lighting her room with multicolored blurs of once happy memories all now blended into one hovering flame. The tears poured out of her eyes, acidly and full of the feelings once stored in her head. She stopped as she reached for the picture that’d caught her eyes moments ago. She grabbed it, putting it in her pocket, and stood there. Noticing what she’d just done. Once the fire grew, it blared towards her. She ran. She did not want her past to be her life. She wanted a future. A future full of forgiveness and love. Love that she was not shown in the past. She wanted to start anew. She opened her window and climbed out, picture in hand. That was all she needed all she needed to start over. Not once looking back she walked away from her room burning up in flames. Her fiery burning that was once inside of her now turning the shack she’d grown up into ashes. An infection spreading throughout the place she once called home. Her revenge. Her thoughts. Her pain. Her sweet corrosive goodbye.
anyway..have a good vaca