for "mini_nanowrimo" hence no friends lock 12
For . . .
My heart has constricted. My belly was ripped raw. Blood leaks out of me in slow, oozing drips down my leg. My head hangs low. My voice is gone but for whispers in the dawn, whimpers in the dark. My eyes are bloodshot and glazed over like a mad person. My ears muted and shut to the world. My feet bare and aching, toes touching carpet and then snow and then a blissful ending.
You think I don't know but I know. You think I can't hear you but I hear only you. You think you'll find answers but I myself am searching for answers. Who knows what the next thing will bring? Maybe the answer is that you don't really need answers to find peace. But what good will peace do to a broken doll like me anyway? I feel all the sorrow of the world in these bones and I am desperate to ease it. Push or pull it was always going to come to this. I just want sleep without dreams. I want dreams without the dreams I dream while I am a living thing. I just want everything to stop.
I can't pray but if I prayed it would be for the blood in these veins to clot and cease such continual flow. There isn't any need any longer. There are no more things I can do that will stop this. No. I lie, there is one thing more but when you read this it will have been done. My last act of self-preservation. My last act of free will as a mortal. Will it help? Will anything change? Don't you see that it was always going to come to this. Where else could I go when I was stunted from the moment I let song lyrics and melodies choke my independence? But you know that, knew it all along.
How sweet is this victory over me?
I finally let myself touch the walls where the music was contained. If you think I'm talking about Stilted, you don't know anything. I painted the walls the colour of forest if you see it from the bottom of a riverbed. The welcoming warmth of a blanket of water. Sleep will come. Sleep has come. I feel it pull even now, even as I write this and my hand becomes heavy just from the weight of the pen. I wrote this in black to match the room. Maybe one day someone will take this letter, folded up and trap it in the walls of this room, in this house. How fitting it would be. For all these walls have been witness to and soak up, to finally capture a piece of us back. All the story is here, for now, but a part of it will die with the cat.
Don't think because she is only an animal that she doesn't have secrets. We are all pregnant with our secrets. Some of us have just figured out how to let them go.
I'm not sure of anything right now and so I leave this letter hidden under the amplifier that I broke my toes on my first summer here. I'll leave the corner peeking out and when you're sure that I'm gone you can have this and do with it what you will. You can even try reading it but it isn't really for anyone else. I hope there is never a day where you understand these things that I'm talking about but . . .is it too late to hope.
Who said there is always hope? There is constant movement and a force that pushes you running along with everyone else but I see no hope when I look. I wonder if I ever did. I wonder of I was just not looking hard enough at the hopelessness of the world. Of my world. Everything is crushing me.
I could still change my mind. There is still time. I never said anything about definite plans. I just had a lot of needs and wants and clarity swimming just out of reach. I could still run with everyone else and try to make it work. I wonder how could things can be once they are well and truly broken but put back together and made to function? Is there hope in wondering?
I watch the little things that make up our day all the time now. I see the grace in the swift pull of a full coffee pot and the elegant arch of the steaming liquid as it pour out. I see a flock of birds circling wildly over a rooftop and landing in perfect unity. I see young lovers and tiny child hands and notes to songs not yet written and I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking. I see the untamable rush of water soaring toward its ocean goal. I would not see these thing, nor would I look for them had I not already made my decision. Is my heart so fickle? It really must be. It is a good thing it's broke now.
I suppose there are only a handful of Other Things I should say because it is what you write in situations like these. I want to say I'm sorry. I'm not sorry so I can't say that. I'll miss my mischievous Miko. If I could have lived her life I know I wound only be half as lonely as I am now and twice as content about it. It's not the fault of anyone. Blame the world or the stars and the sun and the moon, blame everything you touch but it isn't the fault of anyone. There isn't anything I would accept from anyone to change my mind. . .unless there is and I'm so young that I can't understand it. I'll miss breathing and watching people at concerts and fireflies in the summer. I'll miss missing out on all the things young girls miss because I dedicated my life to servitude. I am sorry for all I've done before this.
Maybe that's what this is all about. Maybe I am so sick of being sorry for everything always that death is the only way to stop it. I really wouldn't be surprised.
The sun is coming up and my contradictions are starting to become glaringly obvious. I'm going to play in the snow.
Whatever happens next, know that I always loved you.
Holly Jackson.
1180 words of holly's suicide note. i think last year i had some brilliant reason why i wasn't going to write one. i think i said because the reader didn't need it or blah blah blah. i wrote it anyway. after the love letter yesterday i didn't want to stop. obviously this is the most i've written all month so you can see i didn't want to stop this either.
this was one of the rare easy and hard to write things. i knew what i was going to say and where it was going and the kinds of words i would use but it was a matter of getting all the grammar and technical bits down.
i also really enjoy her contradictions although i don't agree with everything she does or does not believe. perhaps that's why she's dead and i'm not. i still, and hopefully will always, have a ever present glimmer of hope for the world.
EDIT: whoa, sorry to my f-list. this posted twice for some reason. fixed now. :S