Reality

I can’t even begin to explain the thoughts that are running through my mind, they are like a tangled mess of thin threads that are floating every which way just waiting, no begging to be cut free.  But the knife that can easily grant their freedom is lost some where in the translation of being found.

 

I try night and day to seek the answers to my many questions, and each time I think I have finally grasped one it seems to turn to mist within my fingers and drift from my narrowing sight, it’s just like each time I try to desperately put my thoughts onto paper, as I am currently doing, it never turns out to make any sense, oh how I long to be able to explain myself, not for you dear cousin, but for myself.

Why I am writing to you in such a manner at this moment is a reason that not even I can fully understand, I mean, I know the reason, but it’s meaning is far beyond my comprehension just as many things seem to be at this point in my shortening life. Which leads me to a fraction of the reason as to why I write to you.

No one knows when they are going to die, no one knows how or why they will die, well at least not those involved in some shady business such as I. Unlike those people that do not know what should be left unknown, I regret so much as to say that I do know, for I have made the plans myself, concocted in a moment of desperateness and realization alike. I have plans for my own death; I know the exact day, the exact hour, even the exact minute, for I have it all calculated to my own accord. Now I know that suicide, as one would put it, is not the answer to all of life’s problems but I have my own reasons as to why I would stoop to a level so low and desperate. None of which I can tell you at the moment though.

 

This leads me to the next mater I must inform you of, I shall be sending you one more letter following this, oh my dear cousin, I simply need a shoulder to lean on at the moment, I need someone that can be there for me and I know you are always there, I know I can always turn to you for support in such maters. We have been together for the entireties of our lives and you and I being the same age has given us some form of a link, I know one exists between us and I wish not sever it with any of my future plans. I simply wish to inform you and only you, I trust you more then I could ever trust anyone else.
I write to you knowing that you wont try to change my mind about anything, I know you and only you can accept my choices.

 

Please await my next letter, for I await your response, if only to know you understand.

 

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The relentless rain beat down on the window pane, the consistent tapping of each drop rang through the rather bland room, the glass was slightly fogged with breath as a young girl sat before the window, her pale lips held millimeters from the clear glass as she breathed warm air on the cold surface, her pale blue eyes gazed listlessly out into the dimming day, the light slowly giving into the darkness, letting it swell over the nearly empty parking lot that seemed so distant from the third floor of the looming building.

The smell of medicines of all kinds lingered in the air, mixed with the ever-present smell of decay and death, which easily over powered most of the other scents that plagued the senses.

The bleach white paint on the walls had started to peel and flake off, showing yet another coat of stark white paint. The entirety of the place it’s self was enough to drive one insane, but it was her own stupidity that had landed her here in the first place. She hated this retched building and any other building like it, they were all the same, and in the end, everyone that checked in here at some point in their life, didn’t leave it alive with breath in their lungs.

 

God, even writing out verses of a song that seemed to play endlessly through her head was quickly becoming very tiresome and the quick onset of boredom was beginning to hit her as she slowly fell back into the uncomfortably hard bed, her head sinking into the fluffed pillow someone had brought, although she couldn’t exactly remember who, it didn’t mater anyways.

The fog on the window faded taking the sentence with it till nothing remained but the thin film of oil from her finger. Her pale blue eyes locked on the ceiling, the same stark white paint covered it as well, adding that much more character to the room. Her arms were completely bandaged up to her shoulders and her neck was wrapped with the same thick white gauze. Her black hair, verging on blue, was pulled back into a messy pony tail that her mother had done on her last visit, actually she was still there, just not in the room, she couldn’t bare sitting with her only daughter for any longer then ten minutes.

God, why had she hesitated at the last moment, if she had done it quicker this wouldn’t of been her reality. A soft sigh wavered past her lips with this dwindling thought as she let her eyes fall closed for not more then a moment before she heard someone at the door, without waiting for an answer the person opened the door and stepped in, the sweet sent of fruit mixed in with the other stale odors of the room as she tilted her head to the side enough to see who it was.

 

“My God, I heard you did something like this but I hadn’t expected to see you so… wasted like this. You look like you’ve been through hell and back, what were you thinking?” It was Justine’s voice, laced with a light English accent that always seemed to put a smile on her face but not today, not in this horrid place.

 

Justine stood at the side of the bed patiently waiting for an answer, her thin pale fingers curled around the safety bar that lined the bed, her black nail polish was chipped and worn from the acids of the fruit, that or her incessant habit of peeling it off. Her purple dyed hair was back in a tight ponytail.

Clearly I wasn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. The thought ran through her mind the words begging to come out but they didn’t.

After receiving no response she let go of the metal bar so she could turn on her heel towards the door, the rubber soles of her shoes hardly made any sound on the white tiles of the floor, oh this room was so warm and comforting.

 

“Fine play the silent game, I don’t have time for someone who wont answer a simple question.” Justine halted at the door long enough to say this before leaving without a word more.

 

Yet another angered friend that had come to visit, they all felt the same way, angry that she could even think of taking her own life, let alone attempt it, there was not one that was sympathetic, that’s not the way her friends were, they had always joked about such a thing, but when it actually happened to one of them it seemed to be a completely different story, like they couldn’t handle the reality that such a thing does happen, that such a desperate act is actually done. Even the most respectable person would stoop to this low level if the reasons were present. And until now no reasons seemed legitimate to her. But now that she had actually found reasons, she understood it fully. She understood herself fully as well…well as fully as one can begin to understand themselves.

 

She let her arms lay limp at her sides, the pain was non-existent thanks to the pain killers the nurses had been giving her every hour on the hour, like some bloody pin cushion, but she couldn’t tell them she didn’t want the drugs, the pain would return and she would be forced come to terms with the harsh reality that awaited her.

Her teeth slowly sank into her bottom lip as she squeezed her eyes closed, no she couldn’t continue like this, she couldn’t let herself return home, it was to shameful, she felt like a samurai that failed at Hara-kiri. This wasn’t honorable in the least, not in her mind anyways.

The sound of the door sweeping open reached her ears, who was it now, couldn’t be a nurse, they weren’t due for another hour or so and it couldn’t be her mother, she was probably staring blankly at a wall somewhere.

”Sam?” A pause followed her name, it was the voice of a male, she couldn’t place it though, not just yet. “Sam I know you’re awake, why can’t you look at me?” It was Nick’s voice, at least he had cared enough to come see her, although this would probably end the same way it did when her other friends came.

 

She slowly tilted her head towards his, her pale blue eyes fluttering open, the fog like listlessness had yet to leave them as she simply stared. Not exactly polite, but it was better then nothing.

”I’m not here to tell you it was a stupid idea, what you did, I just wanted to see how you were doing, you know, part of being nice and all.” Another long pause befell the room, god these awkward silences were wearing on her.

”Fine if you don’t want to talk don’t, just listen.” He drew in a breath with this before pulling a chair to the side of the bed and lowering himself into it, his hands found hers’ and gently grasped them, she loved his warm touch. It was soothing, but she couldn’t let him know that, she wanted to tell him how she felt, but once more the words seemed lost to her.

”I miss your smile, you haven’t looked happy since I last saw you, what’s happened to you? I thought we were perfect, I thought we could actually last.” It was all to good to last, it was too much like a fairy tale. Of coarse she could run this through her mind and not actually say it. “Anyways, I’m just glad you’re alive. Maybe after you get better…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering from hers’ to the thin hand clasped in his own.

”I should go, I’ll collect your homework for you.” What a cold way of saying “you’ll probably never get better,” yeah good-bye to you to. With that he simply took his hands from hers’ and left. She watched him leave the room, yet another friend gone, that’s just great.

 

She slowly rolled over in the bed, her hand stretched out to clumsily search the side table for something, and anything would do this time. A paper cup spilled to the floor the water creating a small puddle, she leaned over the edge of the bed enough to glance into it, and her reflection stared right back. Her so-called friends were right; she looked like a complete wreck. This isn’t what she wanted. She wanted something more. She hated this… what do you call it… existence.

Author's Note

This is not a story about an emo, so please do not base it on that.