The wind whines desperately in my ears, flailing my hair behind me. Wailing and wallowing, attempting to shift my focus onto something more lighthearted. Instead, my teeth peel the chapped skin on my dry lips. The warm blood trickles down the ridges and hills of my face, into my lap where an empty book lay open. Untouched. Thoughts and feelings, into words.
The sun kisses my skin -- a cruel comfort. Cars creep by, individuals on individual journeys. Or maybe something boring; individuals on idividual errands, shopping trips, office jobs. Individuals in individual despairs; never will you find two agonies alike. Never will I find comfort in knowledge that someone has lived through agony alike mine. Never will you.
Fingers trace the fallen blood into familiar shapes. Thoughtlessly, my tongue licks the wound. Unpleasant metallic taste alerts the brain; stop. The blood reads more profound than any words my hands could write. Finger prints in spilled blood -- displayed on lined paper, in an empty book. Closed. Never to be read by anyone's eyes but my own.
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A woman, breasts on a torso. Uterus in her guts. Underestimated. A dress on a rack, clothes spilled on the floor. Tears staining the pages of old books. Painting her nails in the dark of the night, washing the mess of her fingers the next morning. Inescapable thoughts of suicide. Smelling perfumes and drinking tea from dainty tea cups. Writing literature and longing for what more life could be, when she gets older.
Lying in bed, executive dysfunction. The blankets cling to her cold skin, the bright light of the day stings her eyes, forcing them shut. This isn't alike she was promised; "all despair dies before sunrise". Love, laughter, liveliness -- girlhood wasn't like the books and films presented to her. Girlhood was a pretty name for the harsh reality all little girls must endure to become resillient women.
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Here I lie, in my bed of dirt, looking up at the stars. Tossing and turning, never falling asleep. There's nothing here but me. There's nothing I can do but look up. The sky is forever beautiful and here, where nobody goes -- without the big city lights or the small town street lamps -- the stars shine harder. They dance. In the sky -- their home, they are happiest. Hands holding hands, dancing in circles, singing only songs I can hear. For there's nothing here but me. Once they finish their sweet lullaby, I will be asleep. And never will I wake.
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and then Add to home screen.