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The Diary of Isabelle Christina
Contributed by
Euphoria
on
Tuesday, 11th March 2003 @ 04:20:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Entry: Graveyard Anonymous
Time: 4:30Am
Place: Around here somewhere
She sat in a silent corner of her room, looking at the darkness creeping around the edges, speaking to the shadows. Water trickled from a rusty tap into the bath tub, each drip making a peculiarly loud splash, she kept listening it almost sounded like ‘London Bridge is falling down’ a smile crept at the corner of her mouth, she still had it in her….the talent to make music out of sounds that the rest of the world disregarded as noise.
Very slowly she lay down on her beds, took off her clothes one by one, even the weight of the clothes upon her skin was too much, she didn’t know f her heart was sinking or had it already died. There was no sound just this ugly lump in her throat that didn’t let her breathe, The sound of the television outside her room didn’t let her sleep, ‘Peace inside and outside…that is all that I had ever wished for’….a tear inched slowly down the side of her face….funny now she didn’t even feel or realize it when she did start crying….All she had wanted was to see him, All she had ever desired was to be happy and to be with him….the television volume was increased, some dimwit outside went trigger happy with the remote control….
She started to hyperventilate and held on tightly to the sleeping pills, ‘Open your dam mouth and pop them in, you’re not needed, do you understand? you come on too strong to every one, so they push you away, you will never learn, just leave every one alone and die….go away, they don’t need you, DIE YOU DUM WENCH!!!!!!!’ ….a gasp was trapped in her lungs, a gasp for air, she looked at their picture, it was some where…a beautiful beach, lots of music and bright lights, games of fire and ice…..and suddenly it almost felt like some one had stolen all the colors, left a monochrome memory burnt at the edges.
She curled like an embryo on her bed, every single pore was hurting, never did she realize that being away form someone, would cause her physical pain, she wanted to live and she wanted to love him, keep him happy, but something within her fought that desire.
I was standing with the grim reaper when he came to her threshold, he invited me, and it was like a trip to the cinema or the theater, Live 24/7….cheerless tales of bawdy humor that humans enjoy, he told me they feed on self sympathy, each and every one of them only in their last moment they wish they had twenty more years or days, or minutes to say what they hadn’t said….’And as I close in upon them, let the last part of my wing move across their face…their bodies turn rigid and their eyes are like marbles rolling in a glass vessel…not knowing where to go and what to see’ ….he laughed but I simply couldn’t…I couldn’t even look.
I saw her pain, I saw it materialize into an ugly form, a dog with three heads, it was devouring her alive, tearing off her limbs, but it wasn’t her body, it was her soul that was being pulverized by anguish.
She kept squirming, veins stood out on her neck; it was an intense battle between what she craved and what could not be. She could not even cry out because she remembered the promise she had made to her self, that would never break….and now as she stood between oblivion and this world which was darker than eternity itself, she felt all her promises were in vain.
I wanted to reach out and help her, it was as if I saw my own reflection in her, I saw what I hated the most, the instances of my life where I was a loser, a quitter, surprisingly I felt no remorse for her, I just felt pity for my self…
The grim reaper…held my hand tightly…’ Its been decided on the contrary to let her go’…’what…as if you had any say in it at all…she was committing suicide’…’Think about it Isabelle…nothing in life is a coincidence…nothing….She will pick her unruly form off the bed, get dressed, drop the pills in the bin and be okay by tomorrow morning, takes a person of with balls of steel to actually pop them in….She just needed a trip down the gutter, once she know what turn feels like, she is never going to want to be in that position again’…..and her soul? I asked…what about its tattered remains...’we’ll bury them…it’s a place where all the losers go once in a while….’
So much for inspiration, I slowly dissipated into the shadows with the grim-reaper….To come back some other day some other time.
Copyright ©
Euphoria
... [
2003-03-11 16:20:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Diary of Isabelle Christina
(User Rating: 1 )
by LOWMAN613 on
Tuesday, 11th March 2003 @ 11:24:13 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
wow This was a reall touching,deep,poem!
I really got into the whole story line with her!
A great write! Christina |
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