So often you can forget the madness of the world in a secluded spot. Silence calms my thoughts, my mind, and my soul. I am dead inside like the walls of this room. The white plaster is too pure for my sadistic soul. I lay on my cot looking through the single window. I see the blackness of night, the blackness of my soul reflected through my face.
No, you are not charcoal. You are pure. Look for it.
I am charcoal. Leave me alone.
No! Its right in front of you.
What is?
Your happiness.
Where?
Look.
My words mean nothing. No one listens.
Oh, but you are wrong. People DO listen.
No they don’t.
Don’t they look at you when you speak?
Yes, but they see through me. In one ear out the other.
What are you trying to say to them?
I don’t know.
You do know.
Thoughts in her dark mind are subsided by a shot of drugs. Her world blurs in front of her.
I want them not to suffer the way I do.
They won’t
How? I can’t do anything.
Oh but you have.
How?
Through your words.
I woke up one year ago from that flight of fancy. When my world was ruled by Betty and Bob. Bob was my inner demon. He was monstrous in size, and never let me go. Betty saw the good in me. Dragged my thoughts out and laid them on the surgical table, ready to be picked at. One year ago, in the hospital, I knew I had to change. I had to defeat one or the other. But which one, Bob or Betty? I would rid Bob but he would come back, so there went Betty with her bags packed. But she came back, and Bob left. They both left. Where did that leave me? Who was I? That was my quest, my determination. I got up from that bed, and was determined to find who I was.
"I always thought writing poetry was hard, untill i realized sometimes it just slips magically out of my hands and onto paper." Tina
"Because I could not stop for Death -- He kindly stopped for me -- The carriage held but just ourselves And immortality." -Emily Dickinson, Because I Could Not Stop For Death
