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Friday, April 15, 2011

lies. all lies.

Her mouth is dry, so she takes another gurgling drink from an almost empty 2L of stale Coke and looks in the mirror. Week old make-up is streaked across a paling face, and dark circles surround eyes no longer bright and blue… but hollow, and as black as the hair that falls in greasy ribbons around her, sweat soaked and matted to the back of her neck and chest. Her white t-shirt was always too big, but now swallows her whole, layered with a dirty grey zip-up that hangs off one shoulder. Skeletal wrists are concealed in the sleeves, sliced up and down in short, deep gashes… the way that bleeds more. Flecks of white dust can still be traced along her cracked lips… as she slumps suddenly to the bathroom floor.

Hmmmm… must be almost time now…

She smiles at the empty bottle of prescription sedatives, as it falls out of her open hand and rolls across the thick white tiles to rest near a crumpled pile of paper. The truth was there, in those pages, and she found it. The truth… that she was a liar.

One who would do anything to feel numb again.

Anything…

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

good writing

L. Ron Hubbard, before he was apotheosed by Scientologists, discovered a simple, homemade detox remedy: sweat, sauna, lots of fruit juices, and exercise until you drop. Then do it all over again, and again, and again. Etc.

Of course, if you've got cardio issues, Hubbard's home remedy may well prove fatal.

Besides, what is the value of "truth", really? Knowing something becomes valuable only to the extent it informs action. Understanding right and wrong is one thing, actually doing something about it is another. Worse than being blind to the truth is not being blind to the truth, and ignoring it: numbness and paralysis.

If this is a biographical writing, then I suggest you deal with yourself, and give yourself, the same love, understanding, support, and compassion that you would give to a loved one in the same circumstance.

Anonymous said...

Oooops. Make that 'autobiographical' (instead of 'biographical').

Heather-Maria said...

Ah, dont worry, this is not biographical. Not in the suicidal sense at least... because I have a reason to keep breathing no matter how bad it gets. Just one reason now... and it's the only one I'm going to allow myself to need. Everything else hurts too much.

Anonymous said...

'One thing'? Writing?

No doctor can heal-- a doctor merely assists in the effort. Cells, like hearts, must heal themselves.

haze said...

Aww... heather, i hope everything will be okay soon...

Patrick said...

Confessions of someone who truly has first hand knowledge of what addiction looks like. I don't know if you're writing about the present or reaching back on some distant memory. Maybe it's not even about you. If this is you and, this is now. Good luck.

Anonymous said...

Break his heart, and I'll atomize you.

if you happen to be a billionaire...