mistakes
this by no means reflects any suicidial tendencies on my part. nor does it tell of what i am truly feeling at the moment or what has happened previously in my life. i unknowingly saw a reflection of my past and it stirred up painful memories. it started with bad choices, wrong moves and debilitating consequences. even after i have distanced myself physically from him, both in time and expanse, these emotions return in cascades that prove too much for me to handle, especially when i see his face. him and her.
all characters are of pure fiction and by no means do i advocate the worthlessness of life, particularly when i choose to engage in a profession that defers mortality.
and yes, this will pass. it has before. i've done this countless of times. i'm strong. in fact, i'm even beyond that. i'm super-strong.
now let me see, where was that creme caramel that i was devouring before my mind came to this?
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you wonder why you are standing here in this room. the morning has just started and you are better off sitting at the cafe; the sunday times sprawled across your lap, the steaming mug of cappucino (less milk, extra shots), the cigarette cradled between your fingers. the smoke lingers above the table edge, and you like the smell of tobacco by your crisp shirt. that and the traces of ash that crumble into smaller pieces by your socks. these little things define you, they make you what you are. you've said the rest of the day would be meaningless, nothing without them.
you see me here instead, cuddled in a corner. i am wrapped in sheets - soiled, creased and torn. my hair is dishevelled, not as neatly combed and tied like i always wear it. my eyes are bloodshot because i have not slept in days. my mascara is smeared and they form traces around my cheeks. my face is cupped and i cannot bear to look at you. i have no reason to exist. nothing, absolutely nothing right now can define me.
i am weak. i am teetering by the edges of death herself. i am helpless. i can only see the end coming towards me. i am broken; i am lost.
you have two choices. i want you to pick up the gun beside you. silver-streamed; already loaded with five bullets. five - i gave him five chances. he gave me five lies. the gun, look at it; lying so serenely on the coffee table. aim it not at my face; it has seen too much. point it straight at my heart; that has felt much more. it no longer beats with life, but taps the rhythm of death. of hurt.
i have made a mistake. yes, tell them these last words. they may understand if they had time to listen. i have crossed my limits and it was too late to turn back. i am a vagabond in my own life. even i cannot control my future. i have none left anyway.
so what are you waiting for? i will not fight back. you see these hands? i have scratched them. each thought of him, of how these hands have healed and not hurt, how they were used to weep and not shield me from his attacks; they never had a proper use. accomplices, all of them working against me.
you've been thinking too long. i sense your pause, the guilt and the shame. you pity me. you're grasping the gun but you're not looking at me. you don't want to be here. you're breaking sweats, your shirt is soaked. your eyes are pleading; make this stop. i can't tell - do you want to leave this place or do you want me to live?
you apologise. you say you can't do it. you place the gun back in its original place. you grab your coat and you fumble at the doorknob.
number two. you chose to abandon me. you and all the others before me.
i see you leave; you're just like him. a fucking coward, that's what you are. that's what he said he was too. liars all of you. you tell me to live, but you want me dead.
i looked out the window and i saw you cross the road to get the morning news. you're clumsily reaching for a pack of cigs, soon you're smoking swiftly like your life depended on it. my existence depends on nothing. i teeter at the brinks of insanity. lose my balance and i fall in the depths of despair. i lean forward to look at you closer. if i cannot read him like a book, i can try to decipher you instead. all men are mysteries, all men are the same.
i feel weightless. i feel free. as my head smashes against the pavement, i could have sworn i saw you smile. indeed, i was your morning headline. i was the ignition that sparked the rest of your day. he used to tell me that back then, his smile framing the dimples by his cheeks.
but he left me thereafter. you flicked the cigarette to the floor and smeared it against the ground with your shoe. you turned the corner and you left as well.
all characters are of pure fiction and by no means do i advocate the worthlessness of life, particularly when i choose to engage in a profession that defers mortality.
and yes, this will pass. it has before. i've done this countless of times. i'm strong. in fact, i'm even beyond that. i'm super-strong.
now let me see, where was that creme caramel that i was devouring before my mind came to this?
*************************************************************************************************************************************************************
you wonder why you are standing here in this room. the morning has just started and you are better off sitting at the cafe; the sunday times sprawled across your lap, the steaming mug of cappucino (less milk, extra shots), the cigarette cradled between your fingers. the smoke lingers above the table edge, and you like the smell of tobacco by your crisp shirt. that and the traces of ash that crumble into smaller pieces by your socks. these little things define you, they make you what you are. you've said the rest of the day would be meaningless, nothing without them.
you see me here instead, cuddled in a corner. i am wrapped in sheets - soiled, creased and torn. my hair is dishevelled, not as neatly combed and tied like i always wear it. my eyes are bloodshot because i have not slept in days. my mascara is smeared and they form traces around my cheeks. my face is cupped and i cannot bear to look at you. i have no reason to exist. nothing, absolutely nothing right now can define me.
i am weak. i am teetering by the edges of death herself. i am helpless. i can only see the end coming towards me. i am broken; i am lost.
you have two choices. i want you to pick up the gun beside you. silver-streamed; already loaded with five bullets. five - i gave him five chances. he gave me five lies. the gun, look at it; lying so serenely on the coffee table. aim it not at my face; it has seen too much. point it straight at my heart; that has felt much more. it no longer beats with life, but taps the rhythm of death. of hurt.
i have made a mistake. yes, tell them these last words. they may understand if they had time to listen. i have crossed my limits and it was too late to turn back. i am a vagabond in my own life. even i cannot control my future. i have none left anyway.
so what are you waiting for? i will not fight back. you see these hands? i have scratched them. each thought of him, of how these hands have healed and not hurt, how they were used to weep and not shield me from his attacks; they never had a proper use. accomplices, all of them working against me.
you've been thinking too long. i sense your pause, the guilt and the shame. you pity me. you're grasping the gun but you're not looking at me. you don't want to be here. you're breaking sweats, your shirt is soaked. your eyes are pleading; make this stop. i can't tell - do you want to leave this place or do you want me to live?
you apologise. you say you can't do it. you place the gun back in its original place. you grab your coat and you fumble at the doorknob.
number two. you chose to abandon me. you and all the others before me.
i see you leave; you're just like him. a fucking coward, that's what you are. that's what he said he was too. liars all of you. you tell me to live, but you want me dead.
i looked out the window and i saw you cross the road to get the morning news. you're clumsily reaching for a pack of cigs, soon you're smoking swiftly like your life depended on it. my existence depends on nothing. i teeter at the brinks of insanity. lose my balance and i fall in the depths of despair. i lean forward to look at you closer. if i cannot read him like a book, i can try to decipher you instead. all men are mysteries, all men are the same.
i feel weightless. i feel free. as my head smashes against the pavement, i could have sworn i saw you smile. indeed, i was your morning headline. i was the ignition that sparked the rest of your day. he used to tell me that back then, his smile framing the dimples by his cheeks.
but he left me thereafter. you flicked the cigarette to the floor and smeared it against the ground with your shoe. you turned the corner and you left as well.