Monday, 3 November 2008

Bittersweet Goodbye #2: Worse than Murder.

I started off as nothing. A simple cell. And now? I'm not fully formed, but I'll get there. I'll be a new life. Honestly, I'm excited. I'm gonna see the world. I'm gonna feel my mother; her kiss, her touch, her love.
I'm gonna be real.

I'm nuzzled against the damp warmth of her womb, my mother. I hear her soft sobs, muffled, but still present, and I wonder what's hurting her. I want to stop her tears, I want to be the reason of her joy, the subject of unconditional love.
She holds me, or tries to. I feel her thin, shaking hand resting on her stomach, saying words in her soothing voice, but I still hear her pain. She hasn't moved in a while, I feel her legs crossed beneath me, her hands constantly stroking her stomach, lulling me into sleep. I want to see her face, see what she looks like. It'll be like looking at a future me. I just want to make her proud.
Make sure she never regrets me.

What's happening? Light seeps through my little home... Is it time? No, it cant be. It's too soon. I'm still ugly; skin unformed, eye's like lizards: Black and lidless. So what's happening? I feel a slash at my feet, something sharp, hooked. It thrashes around, trying to get me. At first it misses me, and hooks onto mommy's flesh, but then it gets me, cutting my pink stomach open, pulling me down. Mommy? What's happening? It's not my time yet, why am I being ripped from you? The tugs get harder, like all guilt has been forgotten.
I am exposed.
My little legs now outside of her, the rest of me catching up. No, mommy, don't do it.

I cling onto the cords and flesh around me, her sobs are now groans and yells. Mommy, stop hurting yourself, stop hurting me. She doesn't stop, she keeps pulling. I'm sliding out, but I'm still holding on.

I think I'm hurting her.

I claw at her womb, grip onto any thing within reach, but I'm no match for her determined, hateful tugs.

I thought she loved me, and as she pulled me out entirely, I realised I was wrong. I looked at her for the first and last time, took in her tear-drenched, brown eyes, her thin lips, and every strand of hair on her head. It was the only image I'd end up seeing, the feature we should have shared. I looked at her, not understanding, but realising, I was so wrong.


I started off so innocent, but then I met boys. They do that: rip your innocence up into shreds.

It's like a black and white movie, except for the blood. That's crimson, nothing but crimson. My blood. It's so unreal in the clean bathroom, there's more of it than I imagined. My hands won't stop shaking, my body's so sore. It's gone, the body. It was small enough to disguise in the trash, so I put it in a plastic bag, along with the hanger. I can't get the way it looked at me out of my head. Like it had just felt the worst betrayal possible; like it's world, hopes, dreams, fears, had come crashing down on it's fragile little soul. But it was hardly alive, so that's my imagination, right? Its eyes cant be open yet, right? Right? It wouldn't know anything. Nothing at all. I want to sit here forever, in this moment of relief, like after the great flood, when all the colours come out, I want time to stop, for me. But I know I should really get cleaned up before my parents get back home, if they knew what i'd done, it'd be worse than them finding out I was pregnant.

I didn't think it'd be so hard, seeing as I never knew the thing, but i think it was the hardest choice I've ever had to make; I didn't want to regret it. And I think I did the right thing. But if i did, then why am I crying so much?

Forgotten Fairytales 2: Sleeping Beauty.

Here she lies; Aurora. Skin changed from a peachy glow to a somewhat greenish tint. Her blood no longer flows beneath it. She was fine one, that Aurora. Her touch as soft as velvet, her voice trickled as sweet as the warmest honey.
Her mother's death during childbirth marked her as a curse, a demon beneath her household. No wonder she suffers from "Eternal Sleep", she has no reason to go on living. Made immortal in fairytales, they always seem to forget to include the bottle of Valium.
The entire bottle of Valium, found empty at the crime scene, found rushing through her blood.

The Lies I weave are, Oh, so Intricate.

Hey, I've been up at the province recently, All Saints Day thingger, so I apologize for the lack of updates. Anyway, I wrote quite a bit while I was up there, so I'm just gonna display them in one post. Comment, loves. :)

27. 10.08

like a rope,
My head so still,
my mind set loose,
fighting to break free.
Desperate to escape
the boredom
I've been tied to.
I plan,
Work with what I've got.
I leash my desperation
and tame it to a wander.
Frolic amongst items of
the past.
And feel somewhat satisfied.

Scent of Thai cuisine,
wafts through these hallways,
sparking my memory
of blue skies splashed overhead,
of salt water smacking your lips,
of coconut tanning on glazed on skin,
and tropical cocktails by the pool.

28. 10.08

Left modern suburbia
for a few days.
Find myself back
to simpler times.
hedonistic lifestyles.
Maybe this is what I need?
Maybe spending time
among people with no purpose
will help me see the bigger picture?

Floating through unknown existence
dragging myself onwards,
my hands grip at the surrounding void,
searching for some kind of foothold.
Desperate to grasp the reality
resting right before my eyes
like a strand of long-lost memory
lingering at the back of my mind
fight to take a breath I don't need
yearn to uncover what it is
that's missing
feels so close, but out of reach.

You had your whole future carefully planned and assembled, and you were so proud of it. It was like a priceless ornament you held up for us to marvel at, and we did. I was so proud of you, you had direction. You had so much going for you. That's why I constantly hope you know I never intended to shatter those dreams. I would never do that to you, you know that right? I can't stop thinking about my betrayal, what I did. I can't move on from it. And I wont, until I know you forgive me. So please, give me any Heaven-sent sign.


Have I lost myself? Have I forgotten who I am? Am I just a shell, held upright by mannerisms? Where have I gone? Where is the purpose that once so surely kept me striding, head held high, heart on sleeve, opinions out in the open?
Where is the once strong girl who carried her world on her shoulders? All that seems to remain are her bones, her world nowhere in sight.
Help me find myself. Give me a reason to carry on.

Can't remember the last time
I felt so withered,
so emotionally drained.
As if it took all my strength
to stop myself from telling her
how violated I felt.
It's not the shock,
not the paranoia,
that was expected,
I'm not raging,
more like in disbelief,
I feel shook.
As if somebody intruded my mind and discovered my thoughts.