You see her again, once more
stuck in that black box. She is huddled in a ball at the center, arms wrapped
around her legs as she presses her knees to her chest, trying to fit into the
smallest amount of space as possible.At
first, she is alone, but then there are a few people walking along the walls,
reaching up and carving words into the surface.Words in a dripping, blood red, carved deep and permanently into the
surface. With each cut she flinches as if the words are being carved into her
own skin.
She
stays huddled and weeping in the center of the room until they are done, every
inch of the wall covered with evil, nasty, hurtful, but true, words. As they
walk around, their hands trailing along the wall, rubbing the pain in, she
takes one deep breath, and stands up.One by one she walks up to them, and tells them to go away, slowly
ushering them out the door before closing and locking it once again.
Where
she had been sitting there is a chest, locked with one tiny key.She opens the chest and inside places the key
to the door.She then closes, locks, and
removes the key.In one fast move,
before she can rethink the decision, she swallows the key. Locking it inside
where it never can be reached to open that door again. With a sad sigh of
things lost, she lays on her back next to the box, having locked away the
pain.She closes her eyes and sleeps,
hiding from the memories, the wishes, and the dreams in the best way she knows
how.
Slowly
her mind transforms that room into a sanctuary, a place of comfort and safety
where she can hide from all who wish to hurt her, because none are ever allowed
to enter, none but her.
Lies, the fine black lines covered in velvet. So soft, but hiding poison within. So tempting to feel the fabric against her skin. Ignore the scars from the past, ignore the burns each touch has left on her. She wraps herself in them. Shielding herself, the velvet caressing her, slowly falling apart until the poison direct is what is caressing her. At first she feels nothing, the barest threads of velvet still protecting her. Yet that protection is but short lived, because the lies slowly start to burn, start to cut through the clothes, leaving ropes on her skin. Slowly, all her clothes are burned away until nothing is left but pain. That pain starts to clear her head, a gradual process. She starts to see the web, the tangle, the mess she has managed to weave her body into. Yet again. At first all she feels is hopelessness mixed with the pain. Then she sees the knots, the way to untangle herself. It takes a while, the first knot is the hardest, having to reach and pull at it with the barest tips of her fingers, but with each one gone the pain gets a little less, her mind a little clearer. The burns start to scar, as piece by piece she takes herself out of the web. Sliding the ropes off until there is nothing but her body. And the scars. She turns away, every move deliberate, gradual. Her mind covering herself with new clothes, using them the same way as the lies. As protection, as hiding. Feeling safe for a brief minute. But they too start to wear through, and she realizes that they are but another cover, another momentary protection of lies, another thin cover for the poison. And it again starts to burn into her skin. This time there are no knots to untie. She has to sit and feel as each thread brands a path in her skin. She falls down, unable to stand with the pain, tears silently falling down her face. She starts to accept the pain into herself, accepting it as her lot, accepting it as her right. Until finally she is able to stand, she has fully learned the truth of the lies, the truth of the pain. Knowing the pain is part of her. And will always be, Part of her.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
The drop is sheer, seemingly endless. The fog hiding any scenery possibly scattered below. There is no green, the only colors the dull brown of the rock and the not quite white of the fog. All of it overlayed with a grey shroud. She stands with her back to the drop, facing the flat brown/gray landscape. Her clothes blending into the sky, her hair down and flat. Her posture one of hopelessness, while her eyes are open, screaming of hurt and pain. From her body come three cords. A thick oily black one, attached to her head, had already been severed. The edges dead and burned. A thin red string was once firmly attached to her stomach, but she has severed every strand but one on that. Keeping the connection secure, but weak. Her hands caress the third cord--an off white rope attached to her heart. Tears stream from the sky while her face shows no emotion, the rain weeping for her. She slowly reaches for the knife at her hip. The rain falls harder while she starts to cut the cord. Her face still impassive as her eyes scream of the pain. It's finally severed, but her hands still hold it as a connection as she backs up, her steps taking her to the very edge of the cliff. She silently mouths "Goodbye" before falling back off the edge. Her hands letting go as a peace finally starts to bud over her. As she disappears into the fog, a beam of sunlight bathes were she last stood, warming and cleansing as the rain finally stops, and a rainbow rises out of the gorge.
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
She hangs up the phone, her body knowing that he is now inside the house. Murmuring voices confirm. She sits still for a few more moments, gathering her strength before getting up to go and greet him. Reminding herself that it was all her idea and she does want this. He hasn't changed much. The emotionless thought floats through her head, trying to distract her from the attraction that her body feels. But it flys out as soon as their eyes meet. It's not the sparks and lightening of the stories, but a comfort, a knowledge that she is now safe. She still fights it. She knows what leaning on him before has done. The pain she has thrust herself through because of it. But then he hugs her, and everything is good. His arms--strong, big, and right--enfold her. Blocking out everything else but the fact she is there. She breaks away eventually, regretfully. But with that simple move he has put them back into the place they where before. Desire, want, need surrounding them, constantly tying them together. Neither of them wanting to be farther away than a touch for the little time they have left together.
Their last moments together, they stand separated by a counter. She ready to go out with the girls, he just standing there. No goodbye's, no hugs, no kisses. Just a small wave, seeming to promise to see her again soon. But not true. She leaves the next day. Spending the hours in the car thinking, realizing that all she wants from him is an impossibility. To many barriers, to many problems keep them apart more than any physical thing ever could. As long as there is distance, she can remember. As long as he is apart she can keep her mind firmly in control, burying her heart again and again until it doesn't come out any more.
Twisted, messed up things. It's funny how not just what you say, but what you don't say can be one. My mother regularly lies to me. Oh, she would deny it, saying it's for my best interest, for my health. But it's still a lie. Recently she got my hopes up. Making me so happy and excited, rushed, but happy. Turns out she was lying. And now she wants me to feel bad about it, through my sister. Bad because what I've wanted for the longest time was going to come true, and I was doing what I could to make it so. Bad because it's in inconvenience to her, when she was the one to broach the idea, bad because I'm not "the bigger person, who can see what kind of inconvenience this is and say 'never mind, it doesn't matter.'"
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