friday night lights
05/16/2006
The silence is what I looked forward to in my pointless life. My leg was senseless and my check burning. Someday, I hoped he’d burn in hell with me. I moved my right hand from under my butt and slightly brushed my cheek. I could feel the hard knot, swelling. Excuses, I always needed those.
I was already thinking of a lie to tell Monte, my boss at Starbucks and my professor of my biotechnology course, a teacher who really did care. Maybe I wouldn’t have to face them tomorrow, I could call in sick and be absent from class but eventually I’d have to confront this problem... I slowly stood up balancing on the leg that wasn’t battered to paralysis.
Fuzzy, light headed, holding myself erect for a good minute, objects obscured my vision. The temperature of the house was well over 100 degrees, nearly boiling. Sean, left the front door open. My day entailed searching around endlessly for my indoor cats and panic attacks. I opened the piss stained color refrigerator door, pulling the last beer from a 24-pack. I pressed the aluminum can against my swelling cheek.
I walked to the bathroom and propped my left leg up on the counter. I stared at my vagina through the shattered mirror. The cut had been torn open again, blood trickled down my leg. I used my fingers to separate my labia, the pain excruciating. I licked my index finger and gently wiped the saliva over the wound. My leg began to shake, physically, I am weak, emotionally, I am beat.
I soaked two cotton balls with hydrogen peroxide gently dabbing them on my brow bone. I enjoyed watching the bubbling white foam and the sensational sting that came from the cut. I removed my white style co. t-shirt, the cotton adhering to my back from dried up blood. I walked the short distance up the hallway to my bedroom and shut the cheap wooden door, throwing my lifeless body onto my bed. I turned over on my stomach and reached for the power button on the stereo.
I felt the peace rise from within the pit of my stomach, David Lanz, piano music. I was not afraid to shut my eyes, dreaming of what my life should have been like. Anyway, I wasn’t expecting Sean back that night.
"You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love.
You don’t need a reason to leave.
Wanting to leave is enough.
Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again.
It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac.
It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship.
That’s all.
Be brave enough to break your own heart."
The silence is what I looked forward to in my pointless life. My leg was senseless and my check burning. Someday, I hoped he’d burn in hell with me. I moved my right hand from under my butt and slightly brushed my cheek. I could feel the hard knot, swelling. Excuses, I always needed those.
I was already thinking of a lie to tell Monte, my boss at Starbucks and my professor of my biotechnology course, a teacher who really did care. Maybe I wouldn’t have to face them tomorrow, I could call in sick and be absent from class but eventually I’d have to confront this problem... I slowly stood up balancing on the leg that wasn’t battered to paralysis.
Fuzzy, light headed, holding myself erect for a good minute, objects obscured my vision. The temperature of the house was well over 100 degrees, nearly boiling. Sean, left the front door open. My day entailed searching around endlessly for my indoor cats and panic attacks. I opened the piss stained color refrigerator door, pulling the last beer from a 24-pack. I pressed the aluminum can against my swelling cheek.
I walked to the bathroom and propped my left leg up on the counter. I stared at my vagina through the shattered mirror. The cut had been torn open again, blood trickled down my leg. I used my fingers to separate my labia, the pain excruciating. I licked my index finger and gently wiped the saliva over the wound. My leg began to shake, physically, I am weak, emotionally, I am beat.
I soaked two cotton balls with hydrogen peroxide gently dabbing them on my brow bone. I enjoyed watching the bubbling white foam and the sensational sting that came from the cut. I removed my white style co. t-shirt, the cotton adhering to my back from dried up blood. I walked the short distance up the hallway to my bedroom and shut the cheap wooden door, throwing my lifeless body onto my bed. I turned over on my stomach and reached for the power button on the stereo.
I felt the peace rise from within the pit of my stomach, David Lanz, piano music. I was not afraid to shut my eyes, dreaming of what my life should have been like. Anyway, I wasn’t expecting Sean back that night.
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