She sits still on the bed, her legs outstretched her face apparently blank although if anyone cares to look closer, they will see her brows are slightly furrowed causing a line to appear above her nose. No one is looking closer.
The thoughts and feelings turning around in her brain do not quite match the look on her face or her apparently comfortable surroundings. She is thinking about the expression “You have got to grab life by the horns” but she is thinking that more accurately, she would like to sink her teeth into life and tear out its flesh. She is currently imagining violently tearing it apart and swallowing it. She is sick to death of waiting around for it to take shape on its own.
She is so sick of people around her who make her want to throw up her own heart and spit it onto the floor. Every bloody day in life she tries and tries and tries. She makes an effort to be gracious and to smile, but people touch her and it makes her want to peel her skin off. They look at her and it makes her want to sew her eyelids shut but she would still feel the peering. Even people she loves suck the energy out of her with an iron straw and make her feel guilty for letting them.
It is ridiculous and excruciating to have to find the will every day to be positive, to believe, to have faith, to keep going, to work for something better when she feels like she is breathing in muck. She breathes it out as hate, but no one seems to notice.
A scream travels around her blood stream gaining strength and echoes in the very air in her veins. She imagines letting it out atop a mountain and her eyes pop out with the force of it like a cartoon skeleton. Perhaps she thinks, if she lets it out she will be like a deflated balloon and the effort will have been pointless. How futile she is as a deflated balloon, you can’t even damage a deflated balloon with any satisfaction.
She thinks of having a drink with friends at the weekend and pictures herself eating the wine glass, the sharp shards of it slicing open her lips, tongue and throat.
She has to think of new ways to get it out of her; all of this poison, but it is regenerative, like life. She pictures herself pulling it out of her mouth like a vein. There is no end to it because it is part of her insides and she begins to unravel own body. Even when she unravels it all, for some reason she is still there and the dark abhorrence at the core of her remains, and she knows that no amount of violence will kill it. Nothing will but no one can see it because no one is looking closer.