Note: This is me. I'm describing my own life, my own room, my own thoughts. This scene that I've written has happened like this, to me. This is an extrodenarily personal story so PLEASE DO NOT FLAME ME.



Everythings changed




She sits, cross-legged on her bed, a small book in her lap along with a black pen. Candle light reflects off the small sharp razor that is half hidden by her knee. Her greenish eyes are lowered, looking through the curtain of waist long, black hair, at her pale, bare arms that are held straight out, yet downward. She takes a deep breath of the faintly scented air, holding back the tears that threaten to spill down her pale cheeks.

She raises her eyes very slowly, and runs them around the room that is uniquely hers. It's dark tapestries and murals seem to suck up the faint light provided by the candles that cover every empty surface. Books line all the walls, save two, one of which has a large wooden trunk against it, along with the wooden door, while the other has her bed and the CD player that blares Nine Inch Nails.

She shivers as though from cold, her hands running over her bare arms, feeling the scars, both old and new, that crisscrossed them. Scars that she herself had inflicted, by knife and razor.

How had she changed so much? How had she become this dark, depressed THING, that hid from most of society and lived mostly at night? Her head dropped into her lap as she tried in vain to hold back the salty tears that threatened to slip from her eyes.

She could remember when she was younger, how she was happy, and would go out just as the sun set, blond hair streaming behind her, her bare feet barely touching the ground to see if the morning glories that grew behind the great pine tree had bloomed, or the fireflies were going to show themselves. What had happened to that happy child? Was she forever burried beneath the darkness, or was there still a piece of that girl caught in her?

She lifted her head silently, wiping at her eyes, even though no tears had escaped. Looking down at the book in her lap, she quietly opened it. The page she opened to displayed a pencil drawing of a girl, caught alone in some storm with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, while a poem was displayed across from it. She read the poem over quietly, her eyes warming, yet growing distant, at the truth about her life it showed.

Without another glance at the drawing and writing, she flipped to the front of the book. Nestled between the cover and first page were several photos of the things that meant the most to her.

Carefully, as though it were the most precious thing in the world, she withdrew one of the pictures. A small smile spread on her face as her eyes ran over the photo of a young boy lying on his back, eyes twinkling, laughing, his toungue stuck out at the camera. She looked from his bright, spiked hair to the dark eyes framed in their dark lashes, and her smile grew.

Was she really sorry to have given up the happy, innocent life that she had once possessed? At times, she was a little sorrowful-she wondered what would have things been like, had she not been consumed by this darkness? Would she still be the bright, cheery thing that danced on the grass in her grandmother's back yard, and easily made friends with the other children she'd come in contact with? Did she really want to be like that?

Shaking her head at her own thoughts, the girl replaced the photo with the others. Perhaps she would have been happier, had she continued down that path, and perhaps she'd have been spared some pain, but in an odd way, she felt happy the way she was. Indevidual, unique, unafraid to show her true self to the world. Any pain, any depression that she felt was part of her now, and she knew that-if given the chance-she would not return to her old life.

Her smile widens as the song that fit her feelings came on, and, much happier than before, she threw her head back and sang along.

staring at the sea
will she come?
is there hope for me
after all is said and done
anything at any price
all of this for you
all the spoils of a wasted life
all of this for you
all the world has closed her eyes
tired faith all worn and thin
for all we could have done
and all that could have been

ocean pulls me close
and whispers in my ear
the destiny i've chose
all becoming clear
the currents have their say
the time is drawing near
washes me away
makes me disappear
i descend from grace
in arms of undertow
i will take my place
in the great below

i can still feel you even so far away


Disclaimer: "the great below" belongs to Trent Rezner (damn, don't I wish I owned him!) and NIN. I don't own it, never will. Everything else in this is mine (seriously).