A brief character study in the form of a meth trip. Very stream of consciousness. Please read, and pleaseee review.
This wasn't the first time. And she remembers this dark falling this spinning, this blinding whirling from a long time ago. Adjectives are flowing through her head and words and sensations, and she is incoherent. Her own thoughts escape her, and oh she loves this part, because it is so different from her organized closet, shoes on the left, lined up by how often she wears them. This strange place where she has fallen isn't a place of carefully chosen medical terms isn't about precision and fact. This is about touch, and she can feel so much, everything is so oh god. She doesn't believe in god, and she giggles to herself because when she was a little girl she skipped Mass and hid in the garden.
God didn't like her, daddy said so, when he found her all curled up in the grass. Daddy said if you didn't go to Mass then god would hate you. But Cameron was in kindergarten and you weren't supposed to say the word hate, you were supposed to say you "didn't like" something. And everyone liked Allison. She was pretty and her hair made ringlets that Mommy said were curled by an angel. But Allison didn't like god, and god made angels, and so Allison decided that maybe angels weren't as good as mommy said. Sometimes she was lonely when she had to stay in the house all by herself and her family went to talk to god. Sometimes she pretended that she went with them, and that god came down and told her that he didn't really hate her. And then all the angels would come and braid her hair. Cameron laughed.
Angels would never have this much fun. Except this wasn't really fun anymore, because the edges of her vision were turning black. Allison didn't like god, and so one day while her parents were at Mass she snuck over to Keith's house and they did a bad thing, and when she got home her father yelled and screamed, and told Allison that she was a slut and that it if she'd gone to church none of this would happen. That she'd be All Right In The Eyes Of The Lord. But that was bullshit. Allison's mother stopped telling her that she was pretty, and instead started telling her how fat her favorite pair of jeans looked on her.
So she didn't eat for a week, just bites of apples and small sips of skim milk, and her mother couldn't say she was fat anymore. Cameron wasn't fat. Her fingers looked so tiny stretched out in front of her face. And slowly her high faded, and she remembered why she had only done this once before. And the tiny bit of her brain remembered that day, after he died, when she had tried to escape, but somehow only ended up feeling worse. She felt a lot worse. And her ears rang and she fell asleep and she dreamt of angels eating sticks of celery.