august 9th, 2009

I forgot to mention that I found my favorite shoes on Friday. There they were, just sitting in my closet. And even though my grandmother was likely the one who technically found them, I chose to ignore that, because there they were, my favorite shoes, just sitting in my closet, waiting for me. You don’t understand. I had been thinking about these shoes so much lately, because they have taken a three-month stint without being in my sight. On several occasions, I dreamt that I was in my closet looking for them, reaching to the highest shelf, like we do in chorus class stretches. I put them on immediately, dropping them onto the floor and stepping inside. They were still molded to my feet, despite their hiatus. They were still cold and the kind of smooth that moccasins become when you always wear them. Their soles were thin, but I was surprised at how nice the arch support was. I could feel the world through those soles, like Commander Vimes from Night Watch, and I walked and danced around the house with my eyes closed, feeling the world with the soles of my shoes.

 

It felt like an ugly scar, that hospital bracelet. On my way back to my dorm, I looked around, trying to enjoy the beautiful world around me and feel the warmth of the sunlight on my arms. All I could think about was the bracelet, though, and I didn’t want to be seen. I continued my new habit of walking around with my wrist behind my back so nobody could see that ugly symbol of shame wrapped around it. I walked quickly up the stairs, hoping to remain unnoticed. I was focused on a pair of scissors. Where are they again? They’re in my drawer, right? Or are they somewhere on the desk? I hurriedly unlocked the door and dove towards my desk, frantically looking for the scissors. Samantha was in class. It would be quick and painless, and nobody would see it. Everything can go back to normal now, I thought. I held out my wrist, sternly operating the scissors in my left hand. I slid the bracelet between the blades. It wasn’t a quick cut- I had to press the blades together twice. The bracelet floated to the ground. It was gone. I rubbed the wrist it had haunted; a band of my skin felt different, more rubbery than usual, but that ugly scar was gone. I put it in my trash can. There was no way that I would recycle that piece of plastic. It sat there and stared at me: I had to cover it up with other garbage. See? Quick and painless. Now get your s**t together and get to class on time for once.

 

Reviews

[WayOath]

Im assuming it was a mental ward bracelet type deal. Lol, I don't know like the specific term for it. This was interesting. The thing with the shoes made me feel like I was reading a book, very nice. The second paragraph was very descriptive and had good imagery. Ha ha, that piece of plastic. Anyhow, the view changes hastily to angered from light. It was a nice transition however. Great job! Review more tomorrow I will!