She is lost. She can't find her feet. Her mind is confused with words and actions that don't make sence. She looks for balance, but it's as though her inner ear is no longer there to stabilize her. She smiles the day away. She hides her termoil. She walks into a room with 20 people in it. They talk. They talk of fun days, the weather, inteligent social arguments. She could join in those conversations, but her tongue is numb. They ignore her. She hangs her head and walks through the room. Hoping that just someone will tap her on her shoulder and ask her if she's ok. She finds a seat in the corner.
She wipes the wetness from her cheeks and takes a deep breath.She watches Them. She sees the smiles, hears the laughs, watches the beautiful girls sway in their beautiful dresses. She feels the roughness of her rags on her legs.
She imagines how she would be if things were different. She traces the scars on her wrists softly.She closes her eyesRemembering the feel of the blood slowly making its way over her palm and then finally over the tip of her index finger. She remembers the brilliance of red on the brown of the table. She remembers thecoppery smellof the redness.Then timeskips to the workers. Trying to be comforting, yet making it worse. She remembers the officers telling her she has togo to hospital. She was ok.
Sheopen her eyes.Back into thepresent. She wipes thewetness from her cheekswith her finger. Shegets up and walksout of the room. She doesn't belong here. She goes to her bedroom and changedinto herbedclothes. Brieflyseeing the scars on her body in the mirror. Shecan't make eye contact withherselfin the mirror. She looks at her body indiscust.No onecould ever love this body.
She looks out the window into the brighness of the day.She's tired and its 2:30pm.It's easier to sleep than face the day. She pulls the blankets up. In her last moment of conciousness she feels her body fall underneith her. She falls.