The broken mirror
I met this girl a long time ago that thought of herself highly one moment and so lowly the next that most people just didn't bother to try to help or bother to stick around for long. That was a run-on sentence.
She met a boy at work and they fell madly in love, and for once her life seemed to go well and all was fair.
Soon, however, things became turbulent and she blamed herself for all of it though she knew she had done little wrong. Her sadness reached epic levels and soon she found herself taking hydrocodone pills and washing them down with shots of whiskey. She needed a way out.
Her boy came through and tried to help her.
She survived the night though her friends told her that by all means she should not have.
Now the real trouble began. She looked into the mirror and saw nothing but a worthless person and now her boy was no longer there to help. It seemed that he, too, had begun to see her as nothing and began wondering if the relationship was worth his time.
She began to think maybe it was not.
Scared, and shivering, and with a fever she was unable to appease she found herself crying as she wrote out her worries and tried to figure out her next step.
In a world where all she wanted was a taste of stability, trust, and most importantly, love she was beginning to eel the cold bite of disrepair. Everything seemed to be going wrong all of a sudden: her computer might need to be reformatted (losing all her files), one of her classes had a new schedule and she had already signed on for it which made classes overlap (stressing her out and also presenting the possibility of losing the class and the necessary credit to enroll in fall as a full-time student), she had talked to a lawyer who told her that even as a full-time student in fall she could not get a student's visa because she had no job or home in her native land, and her boy seemed colder than ever and didn't touch her the way he used to (making her feel more unattractive than usual).
She understood that the country she lived in was trying to protect itself but she highly doubted that delinquents would enter the country through student visa's because they are so track-able. It was like radio-collaring an animal and saying it was impossible to track the beast.
She also understood that her boy did not actually have to touch her or feel aroused by her but it hurt when all attention ceased abruptly. It was his choice and perhaps it was necessary for her to simply look better, it was not his fault that she was the way she was. She could also not tell him of this. If she did he would feel pressured and the touching would be meaningless and empty. Therein lies her problem.
Losing the files on her computer was not truly that great of a loss but her music was there and a lot of pictures that were no longer in her memory card.
Losing the credit would be devastating. Most people would think that a single credit hour would not suffice as an excuse to whine but it would mean waiting a year to actually enroll in the program. Even if she was to get it sorted out she would have to have an interview with a jerk in charge of the program.
She decided to write this all down and hoped her boy wouldn't look at her livejournal because she would feel terrible. She felt tears prickle at her eyes as she wrote and decided to end it. Her room was much more inviting since the computer in her living room was too public, she could not cry.
She met a boy at work and they fell madly in love, and for once her life seemed to go well and all was fair.
Soon, however, things became turbulent and she blamed herself for all of it though she knew she had done little wrong. Her sadness reached epic levels and soon she found herself taking hydrocodone pills and washing them down with shots of whiskey. She needed a way out.
Her boy came through and tried to help her.
She survived the night though her friends told her that by all means she should not have.
Now the real trouble began. She looked into the mirror and saw nothing but a worthless person and now her boy was no longer there to help. It seemed that he, too, had begun to see her as nothing and began wondering if the relationship was worth his time.
She began to think maybe it was not.
Scared, and shivering, and with a fever she was unable to appease she found herself crying as she wrote out her worries and tried to figure out her next step.
In a world where all she wanted was a taste of stability, trust, and most importantly, love she was beginning to eel the cold bite of disrepair. Everything seemed to be going wrong all of a sudden: her computer might need to be reformatted (losing all her files), one of her classes had a new schedule and she had already signed on for it which made classes overlap (stressing her out and also presenting the possibility of losing the class and the necessary credit to enroll in fall as a full-time student), she had talked to a lawyer who told her that even as a full-time student in fall she could not get a student's visa because she had no job or home in her native land, and her boy seemed colder than ever and didn't touch her the way he used to (making her feel more unattractive than usual).
She understood that the country she lived in was trying to protect itself but she highly doubted that delinquents would enter the country through student visa's because they are so track-able. It was like radio-collaring an animal and saying it was impossible to track the beast.
She also understood that her boy did not actually have to touch her or feel aroused by her but it hurt when all attention ceased abruptly. It was his choice and perhaps it was necessary for her to simply look better, it was not his fault that she was the way she was. She could also not tell him of this. If she did he would feel pressured and the touching would be meaningless and empty. Therein lies her problem.
Losing the files on her computer was not truly that great of a loss but her music was there and a lot of pictures that were no longer in her memory card.
Losing the credit would be devastating. Most people would think that a single credit hour would not suffice as an excuse to whine but it would mean waiting a year to actually enroll in the program. Even if she was to get it sorted out she would have to have an interview with a jerk in charge of the program.
She decided to write this all down and hoped her boy wouldn't look at her livejournal because she would feel terrible. She felt tears prickle at her eyes as she wrote and decided to end it. Her room was much more inviting since the computer in her living room was too public, she could not cry.