Petite étoile

2009-04-05T23:53:00.003-04:00

II (cont.)

---

I glanced at the clock on my desk as the minutes ticked on. I did not sleep- I could not sleep. Pushing the covers off of me I got out of bed and walked to my window; the screen was the only thing keeping me inside but I wished I could be the air, I begged for it. However, I was not allowed to leave this reality, no, not now, not when I was so incredibly close to escaping it. Fifteen minutes passed of empty existence before I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. It was now 3:49 in the morning and I had a little over an hour to kill before I needed to get ready for school. I began to type whatever popped into me head, then erased it seconds after it appeared, and repeated. After five minutes of this process I shut down my computer in frustration.
Time was dragging on forever. I went down the stairs and opened the back door before my bad habit and I escaped onto the porch. With every drag of the cigarette my stress level reduced until the boundless jitters in me were nearly a memory. I did not care of my terrible behaviour now. The night was mine to revel in anyways. When the time came for the sun to rise I was always saddened by it's presence. I threw my cigarette to the ground and suffocated the smoldering embers with a quick squish. My father would be up soon, the night would be gone. I would have to return to the world of dramatic teenagers and rude teachers in a little more than an hour- I did not want to. I stammered my way back into the house, perhaps in despair, and jumped into the shower to rid my body of any cigarette smell.

---

After school that day my parents were home. It was early and that made me quite nervous, just like everything else. I performed my after school rituals to perfection before going inside my house. Moments after the door opened my mother was already calling me into the kitchen.
I was not prepared for what she had waiting for me in there. I was not prepared at all.

My mother, I could see, was enjoying each passing second of this torture. I however, should have known better, should have seen it coming for me. My mother knew I would never be the child she had dreamed of and tried to train me to become, but this was too far now. I was much too astonished to speak to the faces I saw in my home so I went my way up the stairs and locked myself inside of my bedroom. I graciously opened my nearly empty bottle of Xanax and washed three pills down with water. Before facing my mother I would need all of the chemicals in the world to calm me. She would not be happy with me, but she never was happy with me to begin with.

Time passed and I found my door knob before stumbling my way down the stairs. I was too lethargic and numb to care about who would be there to see the mess of Addie.

More later.

2009-03-22T20:21:00.002-04:00

I flutter inside and I spin till I cry. I'm motionless
in my head, again; no one can find where I've gone.
The dark and the madness, the mania and the hell,
they say to just pretend; say it's all going to be okay.
I haven't slept till my eyes go red.

I feel all the colours and I feel all the sounds. Did
I spill you all my secrets; even the ones that break me?
I've no stories to sell you, nothing to tell you. Is this me
in sanity or is this nothing more than me dead?
I haven't slept till my eyes go red.

The morning comes, but I am stuck in my night.
I will not wake until I sleep wrapped tight. Bring me
back again to the places I've been; all the pretty
worlds I've made up inside my head.
I haven't slept till my eyes go red.

I sleep till I've gone all dead.

2009-03-18T22:17:00.001-04:00

2009-03-16T00:54:00.004-04:00

Here's some music for you:

you and spring

Boom Boom Goes the Day // Sean Hayes
How the Day Sounds // Greg Laswell
Careful // Guster
Elizabeth // Ruru
Wine Out of Coffee Cups // You were Always
Barfly // Ray LaMontagne
Bruises // Chairlift
Comes and Goes (In Waves) // Greg Laswell
One Man Wrecking Machine // Guster
Relief // Chris Garneau
Naive // The Kooks
The World Spins Madly On // The Weepies
You're a Wolf // Sea Wolf

2009-03-15T00:39:00.003-04:00

II.

Everything I had ever known washed away.
-spiraled
-flew
Everything was now nothing.

---

My mother knocked on my bedroom door to find me indulged in my studies. It was only a matter of time before my mother or my father thought they should interrupt my daze. She opened my door and gave me one of those sickeningly fake smiles. In her hand was an envelope that had been ripped open.
"Darling, why did you not call your father and I once you found out you were accepted?"
"It wasn't an emergency; I didn't want to bother you." I didn't glance at her once.
"Well, you should know this would be an exception to the emergency rule."
"Oh. Well, I didn't think it would count." I was cold, I was not the ideal daughter. I was sure I would never be capable of such flawlessness and had stopped trying long ago.
My mother began to say something to me, but I did not listen, neither did I care. "Mum, I have a big test tomorrow. I need to study if I want to get that scholarship."
She was hesitant to leave my room, but she nodded her head and gave another fake, almost motherly, smile. "Yes, yes. Of course dear."

My father found me in my room- asleep with my head in a book. His hands shook me awake, which gave me comfort that it was not my mother trying to pry me away from this world I had created. My papa and I were similar in many ways. We were both relentless when it came to our desires, we were passionate about the things that meant most to us, we locked everything inside of ourselves, and we both could say things to each other without speaking a word. I loved my papa more than anything in the world. He was the exception to my numbness, he made me feel a slight smile on my face, he allowed me to feel love, and I did not mind that one bit.
Papa smiled at me and I smiled back at him. It was a sleepy grin, of course, but it was a smile none-the-less.
"Addie, why don't you have something to eat" I glanced at the plate in his hand, he knew me well.
"Okay, Papa. Just leave it there, I'll have some when I've finished studying." The plate hit my desk with a clanking sound.
"Your mother told me you got a letter from UMA today." I knew he wished I had been the one to tell him rather than my mother, but she couldn't keep anything to herself.
"Yes," I smiled, "I've been accepted." I popped a cucumber into my mouth and my father leaned down to give me a quick and short squeeze.
"That's wonderful, honey. You're mother and I knew you had nothing to worry about." I squeezed him back and he kissed me on the cheek.
"Thanks, Papa. I've got to finish doing this though." I hesitated, "I love you."
"I love you, too, baby-doll." My father left me to exist in my world, but bits of me wished that he would never leave me alone in it. Papa was the one sliver of hope inside of my heart, he was the only reason I had chosen to apply to colleges in state. He was my hope, and only god knows where any of us would be without hope.

---

There will be more soon.

2009-03-13T19:47:00.001-04:00

I have no idea what this piece will become.

I.

Nothing feels real.
-Not my hands.
-Not my legs.
-Not my voice.
-Not my existence
-Not even my life.
Nothing can or will be real ever again.

---

I thought about too many things walking down that alley. I was always thinking and letting my mind run away from me, but I always hated how much and how far it went and how fragments formed into obnoxious run-on sentences, or paragraphs that just never-ended, with no stops, just infinity and -
I did it again! My god, I swear I've found all of my flaws, but have yet to fix them - not even one.

I began to think of a flaw that I could maybe start to fix. Perhaps walking down to this alley in the middle of the night was one of them. That, certainly, is a flaw I could change.
As soon as the thought reached me, so did the pain. The pain shot from my hips and radiated through my entire body. We both knew that I was here, in this dark fucking street, searching for him and that he hid to make the game much more exciting. I understood, at least, I did; then I got angry and tried to leave. He didn't like quitters is what he told me and he seduced me back into the game again. I told him I would stay and play, I promised. Yet he didn't trust me still. So when I wasn't looking, he attached me to strings. He attached it just so that when I moved a way he didn't like it would pull my bones and skin and make me quake in a horrible, dull pain.
The first time I felt that pain was the first time I thought about my flaws. This time, when I felt the pain I decided this was definitely a flaw I could fix. I thought, "I could change." But I quaked again and he pulled much, much harder.

The worst part of everything was that sometimes I hated him, but most times I hated myself. I couldn't make any of it stop. Not the hatred, not the obsession, not my thinking, not my silence, and certainly not my existence. Far too often I would determine the worst: I am always going to be like this. This will never stop. For now, I said every piece of me is gone. I said, "Nothing will ever be real again."

---

Once again, I awoke exhausted. Sleep was the worst thing known to humankind. It did not rest me, but exhausted me. I thought, "Or maybe it is not sleep, perhaps it is just me." I only thought this because I could vaguely remember a time where I once loved sleep, but then again, I thought, maybe my mind is making things up again.
When I woke I got ready for the day ahead of me, but I'd begun to dread every day. I did not try to paint my face or flatter myself anymore. I did not care enough to make and effort. I resented myself for allowing myself to be held captive.
My parents stared at me while I gathered my things. In the months prior they had begun to resent the breakfast I no longer ate and, later, the meals I would avoid. They cooed in attempts to give me what I needed, but I didn't want what I needed. Everything I needed was too much. Simply because I, myself, was too much. After their efforts were unbearable, I would resign to my journey to school. Every morning was always the same.

The halls were not my favourite place to be. There were too many people, issues, excitement, feeling... Places with filled with emotions were not for the eternally numb, which was, naturally, me. However, I had taught myself to look ahead, for every venture through the halls meant I was closer to the comfort of a classroom.
My teachers no longer noticed my existence, nor did those whom were once my friends (emphasis on the past tense). Yet, I did well in school and remained in the top twenty of my class. School and then graduation would become my escape from this evil inside of me. Then, the days would no longer be a bore, as they would no longer remain the same. Graduation was a few months away and the fall of independence would, surely, become my savior. I was always positive about such things, always naive- I had no reason to believe that my current theory would not prove to be true. Because, I said, "If I believe in this, then it will believe in me."

---

I arrived home to my mailbox, as I always did. I lived my life through habit. I did everything, everyday, in the same order, always. If this ritual was not performed, I would fall apart. But today my schedule was disrupted by the abrupt return of my own emotions. My head knew I was not allowed to feel anymore. Feeling was too much for me to handle, too much to understand. As it was, I was left questioning my sanity whenever I felt anything at all.
I had come to find a big, bulky envelope in my hands. I could feel my heart fluttering, and I could see my hands tearing it open. I was feeling too much already. But once it hit me that this was what I had been waiting for, my guaranteed ticket away from this evil in my head, there was a goofy, gleeful, grin stretching my face. Now though, my day of 'always the same' had been paused and I could feel it hitting me faster than the happiness had. I could not breathe, I could not think, I thought I would cry, I was unraveling. My panic was evident, but it was no strange occurrence; I panicked often.
Of course, these attacks had a ritual, too. I stumbled into my house, up the stairs and into my room. There was no one with me, and I was fearful of this fact. I could feel my heart, and it felt as though it was dying. I panicked more and more with every passing second, but I rummaged through my things until I found my secret stash of pills. I popped a xanax into my mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed the medication. My panic corner was empty and I crawled my way to it, closed my eyes, and held my breath.

Waiting was never something I enjoyed. Five minutes seems like days when you believe you're dying, but I began to feel the medication effecting me the way I wanted. I began to breathe, reasonably, again. My eyes opened, I straightened up, grabbed the bottle, and slowly stood up. The little bag of pills in my hand returned to their hiding place and I, consequentially, returned to my rituals.
Everyday was always the same.

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