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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: The Pound of Guiltdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: smartblond
    ASL Info:    18/F/IL
    Elite Ratio:    3.91 - 97/114/33
    Words: 441
    Class/Type: Prose/Mirror or Mask
    Total Views: 812
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2623



    Description:
       The font size of the guilties is suppose to get bigger and bigger and both the guilties and the other thoughts are supposed to be italicized. It just doesn't have quite the same effect when you read it this way, but I hope you can still enjoy it.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Pound of Guiltdots
    -------------------------------------------


          The silver-faced judge stood before her-passing judgment on the worn tile floor. Her case was next. She stepped up and the silvery surface starred her down. She starred back-waiting. She could see it contemplating her sentence, but there was no suspense. She already knew the verdict; she knew because she was the one to decide it. She trembled.
    Guilty
    But Ö I think I look better.
    Guilty.
    But I lost three pounds.
    Guilty
    Iíll do better this week. I promise.
    Guilty
    I will only have half a banana for breakfast.
    Guilty
    It was just one piece of chocolate
    Guilty
    I canít do it again. Theyíll find out
    Guilty
    She now wept. I wonít eat anything at all
    Guilty
    It burns. Not again.
    Guilty
    No, please no.
    YOU ARE GUILTY. YOU CANíT EVEN CONTROL YOURSELF.
    I can. I will.
    NO, YOU WONíT. YOU WILL FAIL. IT WILL ALL COME BACK. DO YOU WANT THAT, AGAIN? SAY GOODBYE TO PRETTY. SAY GOODBYE TO SKINNY. YOU ARE A FAILURE.
    I know. I know. The tears fell harder.
    SAY IT
    I failed.
    SAY IT!
    Iím a failure, but Iíll fix it . She fought for breath as the sobs filled her throat.
    THEN PROVE IT,it sneered.
    Quaking, she moved from the mirror and lowered her emaciated form beside the porcelain bowl. The contact with the hard ground caused her protruding kneecaps to ache. Squeezing her eyes shut from the pain and disgrace, she lifted her gaunt arm to the level of her face and slowly uncurled the bony, callused finger. She smashed her eyelids closer together and plunged the finger down her raw esophagus. A burst of pain came with the initial contact of bile to her tender throat and then the residual burning. Her eyes fluttered open.

    I did it.

    A sudden sense of accomplishment and relief flooded over her at the sight of her lunch-two carrot sticks, a celery stalk, and half a square of Hersheyís chocolate- now residing in the toilet. The guilt momentarily subsided, and with the flush she felt free. Elated, she pressed up against the bowl and shoved her knees further into the tough ceramic causing her to gasp in pain as she struggled to stand. She made it and stepped back in front of the mirror. It smiled softly at her. Then she watched as her own hand came to her face and fingered the slight fleshiness left to her cheeks. The smile vanished. The guilt returned.

    Iíll do better next week.




    Submitted on 2011-09-06 21:19:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

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    ||| Comments |||
      i agree with the past comment.
    desperation can be a very powerful thing but destructive. with balance and control you can achieve something greater.

    if you can write then you can fight.

    -awoo
    | Posted on 2011-09-14 00:00:00 | by w0ords | [ Reply to This ]
      This is very hard to read. It exposes a sick desperation, a very exagerated perspective. I think the lack of control is a lack of balance.
    When you attempt to solve something in an extreme manner I think you are essentially giving the problem more weight.
    | Posted on 2011-09-07 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]


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