Flowers
by Josephine
tobias145@hotmail.com
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I sat on the edge of my bed, staring into nothingness, again. My toes dug and played in the thick carpet of my bedroom. My journal lay beside me, it's smooth cover begging me to give release to my tortured thoughts. But I ignored it. What I was feeling now couldn't be forced into plain words.
I stared at the light placidly reflecting onto the window. The only thing I could see out of it from this angle was the patterned bricking of the office next door, across the alleyway.
My thumbs made slow circles on the quilted bedspread I was slowly allowing my self to sink into, as I relaxed fractionally. I blinked slowly, taking small satasfaction in the dark I beheld within my closed eyelids.
I felt my body relax more as I took long breaths through my nose, almost forgetting to let them go free.
My hair fell long and loose at my back adding to the heavy weight my head had become. I needed sleep was what my body was telling me, but that wasn't what I truly needed at all. I needed release. Release from everything I was feeling and thinking so tumultously. Even sleeping didn't free me anymore.
My dream world had become dark and gloomy as I spun around, dancing, my feet baerly touching the dandelions that was now slowly turning brown and dying. Like I was.
My feet were cold, I realised with a start. I brought them up under me and lay back on the bed. It had been a long time since I'd actually felt anything substantial. my grief for life- for that was what I had been feeling- had weighted me down into numbness.
I could feel my head sink into the pillow. Slowly, my eyes closed and my thoughts faded into sleep that would forever tempt me.
My bare feet brushed the small yellow flowers as I spun, my head lolled back. At least I imagined the flowers were still yellow, somehow I knew that they weren't. My mouth was forming a word, over and over it passed my tounge sounding like a plea. I couldn't understand it, I couldn't hear what it was I needed, who I needed.
My arms felt weightless, flying at my sides, the white nightgown I was wearing, blowing in the breeze I created. I could feel someone watching me, I always had. Maybe they could hear what I was saying, maybe they could help me.
I sat up suddenly, and for a moment I didn't know why. Then another beep filled the aching silence. I hit my alarm clock, truning it off. I felt numb as I slid off the bed, testing my toes on the cool floor. I was still tired. But it was the kind of tired that didn't require sleep.
It was Saturday, so I didn't have to go to school. But I didn have to work. In a way, that was harder, I had to smile and act happy for so many people. It exausted me even more.
I stripped down to my underwear that I had falled asleep in, and pulled my work dress over my head, still working the buttons as i stumpled downstairs.
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off work finally, my room offered solace, but not the soul-solace I needed so deeply. There was someone who could help me, but I didn't know who it was, so Advil would have to do for now. I took a vague amount that would have frightened me if I didn't feel the blessed release so quickly.
I knealed down next to my bed, groping around under it for the cold metal that soon kissed my fingertips. I pulled it out, and made sure it was loaded. My father had bought it for me the day of the shooting, but he didn't know I had it loaded.
I would do it, and there would be no one here to save me this time. Still dressed in my uniform, I turned towards the window slowly.
Liz, look out! The words echoed in my head as my finger tightened around the trigger. I fell back from the force of it, and I could feel the blood soaking my abdominal region. I whispered a name, and then faded into blackness.
The flowers didn't seem so happy anymore.
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July 20, 2000
Lizabel
Inspired by "Beautiful Girl" by Paceysgal
by Josephine
tobias145@hotmail.com
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring into nothingness, again. My toes dug and played in the thick carpet of my bedroom. My journal lay beside me, it's smooth cover begging me to give release to my tortured thoughts. But I ignored it. What I was feeling now couldn't be forced into plain words.
I stared at the light placidly reflecting onto the window. The only thing I could see out of it from this angle was the patterned bricking of the office next door, across the alleyway.
My thumbs made slow circles on the quilted bedspread I was slowly allowing my self to sink into, as I relaxed fractionally. I blinked slowly, taking small satasfaction in the dark I beheld within my closed eyelids.
I felt my body relax more as I took long breaths through my nose, almost forgetting to let them go free.
My hair fell long and loose at my back adding to the heavy weight my head had become. I needed sleep was what my body was telling me, but that wasn't what I truly needed at all. I needed release. Release from everything I was feeling and thinking so tumultously. Even sleeping didn't free me anymore.
My dream world had become dark and gloomy as I spun around, dancing, my feet baerly touching the dandelions that was now slowly turning brown and dying. Like I was.
My feet were cold, I realised with a start. I brought them up under me and lay back on the bed. It had been a long time since I'd actually felt anything substantial. my grief for life- for that was what I had been feeling- had weighted me down into numbness.
I could feel my head sink into the pillow. Slowly, my eyes closed and my thoughts faded into sleep that would forever tempt me.
My bare feet brushed the small yellow flowers as I spun, my head lolled back. At least I imagined the flowers were still yellow, somehow I knew that they weren't. My mouth was forming a word, over and over it passed my tounge sounding like a plea. I couldn't understand it, I couldn't hear what it was I needed, who I needed.
My arms felt weightless, flying at my sides, the white nightgown I was wearing, blowing in the breeze I created. I could feel someone watching me, I always had. Maybe they could hear what I was saying, maybe they could help me.
I sat up suddenly, and for a moment I didn't know why. Then another beep filled the aching silence. I hit my alarm clock, truning it off. I felt numb as I slid off the bed, testing my toes on the cool floor. I was still tired. But it was the kind of tired that didn't require sleep.
It was Saturday, so I didn't have to go to school. But I didn have to work. In a way, that was harder, I had to smile and act happy for so many people. It exausted me even more.
I stripped down to my underwear that I had falled asleep in, and pulled my work dress over my head, still working the buttons as i stumpled downstairs.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
off work finally, my room offered solace, but not the soul-solace I needed so deeply. There was someone who could help me, but I didn't know who it was, so Advil would have to do for now. I took a vague amount that would have frightened me if I didn't feel the blessed release so quickly.
I knealed down next to my bed, groping around under it for the cold metal that soon kissed my fingertips. I pulled it out, and made sure it was loaded. My father had bought it for me the day of the shooting, but he didn't know I had it loaded.
I would do it, and there would be no one here to save me this time. Still dressed in my uniform, I turned towards the window slowly.
Liz, look out! The words echoed in my head as my finger tightened around the trigger. I fell back from the force of it, and I could feel the blood soaking my abdominal region. I whispered a name, and then faded into blackness.
The flowers didn't seem so happy anymore.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 20, 2000
Lizabel
Inspired by "Beautiful Girl" by Paceysgal