Drifting

There was going to be a huge party.
I had decided to go.
I had decided to get smashed.
I did not decide on death- but maybe something close to it.

There was going to be a huge party.
For just the one night I wanted to divulge myself in pure bliss. I knew it would be hard, but not as hard as having to, everyday, try to escape this engulfing gloom. Struggling to keep it's dead weight off your shoulders, to keep its hunger at bay. It was an agony, though not so much as the gloom, to keep a neutral face for more than a few minutes. I rarely smiled anymore. So tonight I had made myself a promise- show yourself a good time.

I blended in as I walked around. Nobody would look at the girl they destroyed. A harmless little puppy. Broken, as if in a tragic car accident. The pain seemed too dragging to be that instantaneous.

I dollyed myself as much as I could. I had never possesed much makeup, or anything glitzy or glamorous. I preffered to be plain old me. So pulling on that old party dress- that was a size too big- and crimping my hair- just like I used to- brought tears to my eyes and pulled at my heart.

I had decided to go.
I stowed away my dark thoughts as best as I could and hopped into the car with some girls from school who were gawping at me. I knew I couldn't play this down. A part of me was saying 'good, this is just how you wanted it to be' but the greater half wanted me to crawl back into my hole of a room and die.

The bliss it would be dying...maybe I should try that...I knew it wouldn't be that easy.

We pulled in at the house. Swathed in bright, flashing lights that were strangely hypnotic, dredging back old memories. I fought back another wave of tears and was brought back to the present by more gawping faces. All but one face who looked away- the face I avoided.

I had decided to get smashed.
I hurried through the house picking up the first alcohol I came by. I didn't care about the taste- it couldn't taste as bitter as life. I was only hoping for the rush of ruthlessness that many had warned me would come. I cherished the thought of it.

As my mind and memories drifted, so did my soul, it seperated itself from my leering body and watched my pitiful form playing the fool. I looked at myself and thought 'who would do that to themselves' as I retched into the toilet.

My soul eventually returned to a broken form. A hot, seeping, throb, issuing from my arm. With that throb came feeling. The overwhelming feeling of remembering, bearing down on my cripled form.

The smell of blood. A shock to the head. Cleared of thought. I colapsed.

I did not decide on death- but maybe something close to it.