September 5th, 2005.
So it begins. Mascara stains my hand. I tried to wipe away the tears, yet they persisted, discoloring the skin around my eyes; making them look even more dark and soulful. Then again, how would I know how soulful my eyes look. It's never lingered so long with me; this depression. Last night, oh that evening. Questions running through my mind, but that is the past. Only a couple of hours ago did I push the thoughts from my mind, and yet they return now, with greater force.
When the morning was abruptly announced to me this morning I had felt drained, a lump of flesh. Then of course, there is always someone that changes it. A turn of fate that tempted me into a happiness. I didn't have to rush, so I lingered, talking to the very person that brought about my only despair. The morning looked well, and I felt good, like myself. Through the courses of the day, ah, wasn't it blissful. His cold shoulder I did receive, and yet, it didn't seem to bother me, for I in turn had given it, gathering the attention of my sister. So it continued, though I had no contact with him. Towards the end of the educational gathering I strayed to the door, clutching the course strap over my chest.
I was a little late reaching for the door knob of the door, and therefore was caught up in the sea of faces. Turning the white brick corner my shoe slipped from my foot, stumbling me across the tiled floor. The next corner, was very familiar, I always stood there, waiting on my despair and my sister. Though, today was different, away despair had strolled, not stopping to bring me some happiness, how ironic. But, what was this, as I had no time to stop my bliss, my sister trotted into his affections.
I could have called out, but I didn't. Behind I followed at a distance of five people, until we reached the bright sunlit doors leading to the Earth. There they stood and I approached, a bit shaken, but I had buried it inside. A smile I did bare as I sent my greetings responding to that of the tune of my dear sister. It's a bit of a blur now...a bit foggy in my tear sullen mind. Yet, I remember I was not acknowledged by my despair, instead he turned to my bliss, providing information that he we would return shortly after a short quest.
So I stood with my bliss, trying to act a bit oblivious to the exit of despair. Before I could speak another swept the attention of bliss, away she turned, waving a short goodbye to her interest. I didn't mind, in fact, I probed my sister, pushing softly yet a bit insistently at her shoulder. She shook her head and I tilted mine, leaning a bit down, for bliss is a bit short. I insisted, I pushed, go for your interest. She smiled and looked away, and so bliss dismissed the subject.
The metal doors opened once again into the sunlight as despair returned, waving a bit to bliss and walking off. That's fine, I usually catch up with despair, once I said goodbye to my bliss. Yet there she stood, a bit late for her transportation I thought. Yet, as I began to walk away, she followed. What's this? You're accompanying despair? The earth, covered with the concrete of man reached up, grasping it's course fingers upon my bare ankles. To root me or cause me to trip I could not tell, but both were the result. I don't understand, Why I asked, What I asked again. Bliss shrugs, giving no answer, I'm going along, she says, To despair's. Why? She is, that's all she says. I ponder, but am brushed aside by the slowing despair, who places himself beside my bliss. I ponder alone, and they fall behind.
Their words I heard, yet are now mumbled in my mind. I don't understand, she would have mentioned this before... Everything comes back, I try to block it, yet again I stumble, though this time in my mind. Focusing my attention behind me I notice Bliss and Despair no nothing of my existence, or do not acknowledge that they do know of it. I turn a corner, marked by greenery. Nothing is said, I'm not far ahead, I can hear their footsteps... the soft click, almost imprinted in my mind. So I float further away, and they turn, crossing to a further place, as if wanting to reach safety from me. I turn my eyes upon the site, as I continue to float down the concrete, they cross the tar, him calmly, she in a bit of a rush.
Bliss is small, despair dark. I turn my gaze away, resting on my path. Yet despair leaves his mark, or perhaps it was Bliss that brought the tears. I try to hide it, as I continue on my path. For, what would the faceless say if they saw me. Would they stop, would they ask? Would I tell them? I look towards a machine, a faceless inside, a nod of the head signifies I may cross the tar, to the rough pebbles on the other side. My shoes are thin yet the rocks do not reach up to bind me. I tear, and my gaze fogs, machines rush by, yet there is no one around me, yet around enough to hear a wail, so I keep quiet... even if the would stop, would they ask? Would I tell them? So I keep quiet.
I think of stepping on to the tar, which is busy of machines, as if it is forbidden. I've thought about it, despair and bliss have done this. Or is it me? So many thoughts, recounting my day. What do I do? As I turn the left corner of the path the pebbles disappear leaving only more tar to cross, and a string of green. Another right, to the second house on the right. I wipe the tears away, someone may be home, would they ask? Would I tell them?
To my dismay, my relief the machines which they occupy are gone. To the door I trudge, wondering when I can let the tears flow, the brass handle is unrelenting. It's locked, locked out of my sanctuary. Down the concrete steps of man I struggle, only three. Past a small garden on the right, to a large wooden gate. The flowers turn away from me, and only bare leaves edge to me, brushing my bare arm. It's large, as if reaching out to embrace me, but with malice I realize it's a plant and consider shredding it in anger, or sadness. Reaching the iron handle of the gate I open it, closing it behind me. Three more concrete inclines leading to yet another door, yet this one has something waiting. A clink of claws on the pane windows, a yelp of happiness.
Opening the outer door I reach for the inner, bracing myself as I open it and step inwards. The tears are free, no one is inside, except for unconditional love. Though, I do not stop to pet her, to praise her. I push past, walking through a kitchen, to another room. She brushes pass me, placing herself in front, her ears perk, her whines of happiness enter my ears, but soon echoed out. She isn't the love I wish for, she is love I can not return with passion. She is the love of a pet. The soft steps I climb, past love. She lingers at the bottom her plaintive cries never reaching me as I struggle upwards. Into my sanctuary, into my temple. No door to open, a wide span of space. I enter, my bag flowing over my head.
My hair flickers a bit as I pull contraptions out of my freshly cut hair. It's short, and seems to protest, but can do nothing with the human bindings on it. Why? I collapse onto the unrelenting floor, it's soft like the steps, but doesn't creep or try to brace my weight. It smells strange, I note in the back of my mind as I try to cover my face. What is the point of living if there is no Bliss, no Despair. I want despair, but I love bliss. What's going through my mind?
I think of asking mother of a session with wisdom, though, I wouldn't call them wisdom, it's their job to deal with melodrama. Is that what I am? Melodramatic? Am I manic depressant, why do I feel like this. All these words echoing in my mind. I'm young, I'm hopeless. I can feel the darkness running from my eyes and I rise a bit to glance none affectionately in the mirror. Curses, my face, my eyes, my skin. I only linger on my reflection enough to wipe away the darkness, but it is worthless, it only returns with the invisible color of tears.
What's wrong oh dear Kristen, no one knows. Would they stop? Would they ask? Would I tell them? Nothing is wrong, something is wrong. I'm sick in the head, I know people say it, see it, believe it. I am, I'm not. I'm not myself, I'm everything but. I hate you Despair, I hate you Bliss, never speak of me. Never talk to me. Yet, I love you, I need you oh dear sister Bliss, I want you oh dear Despair, yet you love Bliss, and Bliss denies feelings for you that I know she has. Dear sister, desired Despair...I cant play this game.
Would I stop, Would I ask? Would they tell? Would I cry? What would I do? What is life...why am I living only to die? What is there left to say. Should I live for these people, or for myself. What punishment is this, or is it? Someone save me...Yet, I would not tell if they stopped and asked, would I? If I did would they care? No...What do I do?
I can pretend this isn't about them, only about me, my imagination. Maybe it is. I do not wish to speak. Only through writing will you all now know me. Nothing more. If you can interpret this, you can know what I wish, want desire, why I cry, why I need saving. I will gaze at you with unsoulful eyes, full of nothing, but apathy. I do not care, so you think, but deep down, which you will never know is not worth telling.
So I disappear with lingering thoughts. Only to be remembered and cherished and told. I leave with thoughts that I do not wish to think. If my life was gone, I wouldn't think. I wouldn't live. Would that bring me new bliss or more wanting of despair. Above I do not speak of emotions, yet now, my bliss and despair are not embodiments of “those”.
Insane is what you think, whether you understand or not of what I speak. This is no tale, yet something of a story that will never end until my life is taken, not that is was mine before. I gave it to bliss, my sister, to despair, and the mold it until the hand it off to another. I have no control, yet no reason to complain for they bring my joy.
Things have changed from that day; so many days ago. Bliss is now my despair; my very agony. She has turned from me; turned her gaze of hatred upon me. Despair has gone, not with my once bliss. I don't mind-he is nothing to me now-merely part of the scrolling list of despairs who come and go.
I've learned,-I know; Though, not all. |
Submission Name: My Bliss..
