Horizontal Slashes

I must be losing it. The room's spinning in different colors ranging from purple to neon yellow. All I ask if for someone to turn the lights off but I get no response, all I can hear is my own moaning of pain. Hunched over I try to focus on one spot but not even my eyes can focus. Groaning out in frustration I collapse to my knees clutching my body.

Gasping for air my head shoots up and I find myself able to focus for one second. Not even a second, maybe a millisecond. Even that tiny millisecond seems to throw my brain into a blender and all I'm seeing is black spots now. But in that tiny fragment of time, when I could barely make out anything at all, I think I saw him.

His glimmering smile fading away in my mind as I clutch my body trying to stop the convulsions. The stench of blood flooding my senses help me focus on what's really happening.

It's nothing much.

I wouldn't expect anyone to understand.

I mean he was just one boy.

One boy who stole my heart, one boy who held the world, one boy who called me an angel.

Did you know that if you slice your wrists horizontally it's more painful? That's because it takes longer for the blood to drain. Vertical lines are the way to go for a quickie. But if you slice to deep then it's nearly impossible to do the other wrist because you cut the nerves. Can't hold the knife then.

Well in my opinion a gun would have been far more efficient, but then again, I craved for pain.

Closing my eyes I sank down to the carpet curling into the fetal position. Crying I couldn't find a reason to take it back. Trying to think of all the things that went wrong I realized that there was only one thing that came to mind.

I let him get too close.

Closing my eyes I sunk into the darkness. Fading memories were all I had left to hang onto, and even those were getting fuzzy.

Lying there in the darkness I had the heart to wonder if this was all apart of my fate. Maybe if there really is a God, maybe he planned for me to go and off me after he screwed my life so badly. No, I guess I can't say that. My life wasn't that bad, it was fine for anyone who could accept the fact that their going to grow old and wrinkly. And some day we're all going to die.

I don't believe in God anymore. For everything that exists, for every green leaf, for every field mouse, for every drop of dew, he created all that. And everyone just accepts that. Well I say that's bull sht. Who the hell decided this crap. I threw out my Bible a long time ago.

Letting the fuzziness settle in more I try to remember why I'm lying in a pool of my own blood. Opening one eye to the spinning room I can make out a faint outline of him. Him, the heart breaker, the lost soul, the thief who stole my heart. I'm still waiting for that in the mail, I try to mumble to him. The words don't make it out, they just bubble into the pool of blood forming in my mouth. Metallic tasting.

"Why are you doing this to yourself? You're a goddamn idiot. Weak and pathetic, I'm glad I'm not around any more." His voice was just how I remember, even in this fuzzy state, beautiful. "What are you thinking? Scream for help! Do something! How do you think everyone's going to react? Badly is the answer. Do you think that everyone wants to bury you under seven feet of dirt? I don't want to; I don't think I could live through that. So, just do something."

I didn't. I just laid there smiling. You know, I went to comment with the gurgling of blood, we really are meant for each other. Just a couple foolish idiots.

With one long heavy sigh I closed my eyes. The darkness felt so good now. Death wasn't so bad.

No, not at all.

I want to scream. My lungs feel like they're about to explode. And all I can do is lay in my own pool of blood. Do you know how much it hurts I want to cry out to him.

Opening my eyes I find my vision gone now. It really does hurt. The ache in my heart never went away. Not even after all these years. It only grew worse. So maybe he can forgive me, death is my escape.

Smiling I let my arms lay limp on the floor. Guess that cootie catcher in the second grade was wrong; I never married one of the Backstreet Boys. Nor did I live in a mansion with a pink car. My fingers are numb now. I wish I could go back to then. As a child I was free, and I was so ignorant. So many worries of life don't bother you. Death vacant from the mind, no financial worries. Only dreams of fairy tales filled our minds.

"No, someone has to be around to help you! Just make a noise please. I can't lose you, I just can't."

But he already lost me, I really wish I could point that out to him, but he's too ignorant as well.

As I wish I could turn back the clock, I see his face and know my true wishes. I wish he would have stuck around. One day we would have had a large house in the country with little children running about. They would have had their father's eyes of course, and my hair. And then their faces would be a combined result of the both of us resulting in perfection. Maybe we could have gotten a dog too. I would have named it Dasher.

This is your fault, I want to point out. This is his entire fault and he just can't accept it. It makes me mad, but really I can't stay mad at him.

Turning back the clock I want to stop that car. That one car with the drop dead blond. Her beauty penetrating even the strongest armor. He caught her eye just in time to get me out of the picture. All I ended up with was a few scars. He got a Corvette.

Wishing that day was a memory was my last request from God. If he wants to prove his existence, I suggest doing it now.

But no.

If my arms weren't numb I pound the ground with my anger.

How much longer? Honestly this is hell, this waiting for the pain, this waiting for the end.