She released her thumb and the flame flickered before extinguishing. She set down the lighter, holding the now sterile instrument in her other hand. Her weapon of choice. She rested her left arm on the towel, closed her eyes, and pressed. The pain was instant, deep, and high-pitched, if such a thing were possible. She slid it toward her elbow, exhaling deeply and feeling her relief mingling with the pain. As she lifted her right hand, she opened her eyes. Her blood, so garish against her pale flesh, was dripping down her arm. It was indistinguishable from the maroon towel on which it pooled. She had cut deeper than she meant to. This one might leave a legitimate scar. Shit.
She sat there for a moment, watching the warm liquid slowly exit her body. As it began to slow, she wrapped her arm in the towel and headed to the bathroom. She cleaned the blade and returned it to the cabinet, and then rinsed the now-dried blood from her arm. It stung like crazy, but the pain was what she had been seeking in the first place. Pain meant she was feeling something - it was a temporary reprieve from the internal torment she couldn't seem to fully escape. She looked at her arm again, seeing the dozen or so parallel lines, all of different lengths and in different stages of healing. Good thing it was winter. No one would question her choice to wear long-sleeves for several weeks. She sighed, turned off the bathroom light, and went back to studying.
7:30pm 4.5.11
4.5.11
23.3.11
This Town
Worn-down and exhausted
Felt like his life was passing him by
Hated his job, missed his family
Spent most nights with no one by his side
He’d reached a breaking point
Knew something had to give
Packed everything that mattered
Started driving, life to live
10 hours later, opened the door
Stepped onto the pavement
He’d never seen this before
Felt like his life was passing him by
Hated his job, missed his family
Spent most nights with no one by his side
He’d reached a breaking point
Knew something had to give
Packed everything that mattered
Started driving, life to live
10 hours later, opened the door
Stepped onto the pavement
He’d never seen this before
16.3.11
T-minus
L -
10
minutes I stood, leaning against my door, after our first date. Blindsided by your charm, unwilling to admit to myself how I felt.
9
hours before I heard from you again, a cheery good morning text that I was excited to wake up to.
8
months I spent getting to know you. You didn't make it easy, but I assumed you were worth the time and effort.
10
minutes I stood, leaning against my door, after our first date. Blindsided by your charm, unwilling to admit to myself how I felt.
9
hours before I heard from you again, a cheery good morning text that I was excited to wake up to.
8
months I spent getting to know you. You didn't make it easy, but I assumed you were worth the time and effort.
28.2.11
She knew then.
This is an old piece, but one I rediscovered going through my folder of random scribblings today. I hope you like it; feedback is always appreciated.
~~~~~~~~~~
She sat, legs across his lap, arm around his neck, and stared at his face. His downward-glancing eyes. His grim expression, struggling to contain the misery he felt inside. She would have done anything to take away his pain or to distract his mind for just a moment. She didn’t know how to fix it. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what was wrong. So she sat and waited.
Moments drug out like hours as she waited for him to speak. To open up. To let her in and finally take advantage of all her offers of help. She wanted to fix everything, or at least be there to listen. To help him think things through. It was the least she could do, after all he had done for her.
She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes still fixed on a spot below.
Sitting was driving her crazy. She wanted to do…something. But that obviously was not what he needed. When she simply could not sit still any longer, she moved the hand draped around his neck and pushed his hair out of his eyes. His beautiful eyes, that served as direct access to his innermost secrets. Eyes she could get lost in for hours. Eyes that, if she could only get him to look up, might give her the slightest idea of what thoughts were rushing through his brain. She ran her fingers through his hair a few more times before letting her hand return to his chest.
~~~~~~~~~~
She sat, legs across his lap, arm around his neck, and stared at his face. His downward-glancing eyes. His grim expression, struggling to contain the misery he felt inside. She would have done anything to take away his pain or to distract his mind for just a moment. She didn’t know how to fix it. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what was wrong. So she sat and waited.
Moments drug out like hours as she waited for him to speak. To open up. To let her in and finally take advantage of all her offers of help. She wanted to fix everything, or at least be there to listen. To help him think things through. It was the least she could do, after all he had done for her.
She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes still fixed on a spot below.
Sitting was driving her crazy. She wanted to do…something. But that obviously was not what he needed. When she simply could not sit still any longer, she moved the hand draped around his neck and pushed his hair out of his eyes. His beautiful eyes, that served as direct access to his innermost secrets. Eyes she could get lost in for hours. Eyes that, if she could only get him to look up, might give her the slightest idea of what thoughts were rushing through his brain. She ran her fingers through his hair a few more times before letting her hand return to his chest.
27.2.11
0.142857143
Ci sono tante cose che vorrei dirti. Ma non posso parlarle, e non so perché.
I don't know how to say what I feel. Not to him. 6 days out of 7, I'm just fine. Dandy even. But that one day...I just can't help but wonder if I am wasting my time...like he'll never see how much I care. He'll never care about how much I care. He'll never feel the same. 6/7ths of the time, I am perfectly content being a friend. That other 1/7th reminds me of how much I could let myself fall. I'm better than I was. 1/7th I can deal with. I just wish I knew if it was time to totally put it behind me. I know he's not in the same place I am -- I've come to terms with that -- and I don't want to be that girl who sits around forever and nothing ever happens. But I don't want to totally give up either. That damned "someday" hangs over my head like my own personal storm cloud.
I don't know how to say what I feel. Not to him. 6 days out of 7, I'm just fine. Dandy even. But that one day...I just can't help but wonder if I am wasting my time...like he'll never see how much I care. He'll never care about how much I care. He'll never feel the same. 6/7ths of the time, I am perfectly content being a friend. That other 1/7th reminds me of how much I could let myself fall. I'm better than I was. 1/7th I can deal with. I just wish I knew if it was time to totally put it behind me. I know he's not in the same place I am -- I've come to terms with that -- and I don't want to be that girl who sits around forever and nothing ever happens. But I don't want to totally give up either. That damned "someday" hangs over my head like my own personal storm cloud.
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