I have made a fool of myself. I am nervous to face everyone.
I have confessed to my best friend that I am, in fact, miserable
as I lied on her bed, sobbing, truely welcoming the thought of death
with frightened, shaking, convulsions. The drugs overpowering my body
as I prayed to a God that I may or may not believe in, that he would forgive me.
I walked down the stairs, each step my legs trembling terribly, clutching my coat,
too weak, too uncaring, too ripped from reality to care about what anyone else thought.
My father, dissapointment in his eyes, didn't pry me about my actions,
and I walked out of the house of my friend, knowing full well that I made the
night's entertainment, a problem and a patient to probe.
I sat in my living room, shaking uncontrollably, unable to feel my
limbs, my face, my speech slurred and syrupy. And after my dad decided
that I wasn't going to die, I floated upstairs like a whisp of
and sunk into my bed, to toss and turn all night,
seeing abstract, moving objects, hallucinations, double vision,
falling alseep only to stop breathing, waking back up,
dehydrated, twitching, cursing myself for my actions, wondering
why I had even done it.
I don't even know, everything is moving too fast, too slow,
for me to speak of happily ever after, or the fact that
it's only day three in the New Year, and I've already manage to almost
kill myself. But even after all of that,
I would still give up everything to float up into the moonlit sky,
to be happy with nothing and everything in my grasp.
ashlynnx ashlynnx
26-30, F
Aug 5, 2010