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Literature Text
Under the suffocating lights of the dance floor
and the overwhelming heat,
another stranger asks me for a dance.
He whispers his name in my hair
but I don't have a
name.
and I don't want to know.
Sometimes medication
disconnects emotion
and you lose your soul.
and I don't know how I feel.
I feel -
nothing.
...
His hands are on my hips
and he's too close
lips pressed against my cheek.
He touches my hair,
my face.
Tells me that I'm beautiful.
Runs gentle fingernails
over my back
and tries to speak.
I'm spaced
out.
Something turned
a light off in
my head.
He kisses my hands,
my head
and I can't react.
Everything feels like
a flashback.
a long way away.
When the music slows,
he pushes me to the wall
and whispers that if
I answer a riddle,
he'll kiss me.
I can't hear it,
but I smile anyway,
and want to laugh.
It's like a bad movie script
with the smoke
and pick-up lines.
Two people hooking up in a club.
It's normal.
So achingly normal.
And I've done it before.
But I'm not normal.
I'm a talentless actress
miming the part
while the words run in my head
and drip away,
heavy drops of ink
staining my skin.
My stranger wants to kiss me,
but I've had too much to drink.
I know that if I let him,
he'd be kissing the
emptiness inside,
and he'd taste more alcohol
than me.
He runs his hands over my scars,
and tries to kiss my wrists.
And suddenly everything goes
dark.
And the shadows
move into my mouth.
Why?
Why are you touching me?
I catch my sister's eyes
smile
and leave.
We disappear.
A stranger's words
follow me -
"Fucking sicko.
Just kill yourself.
Look at your arms.
Kill yourself.
Kill
yourself."
and the overwhelming heat,
another stranger asks me for a dance.
He whispers his name in my hair
but I don't have a
name.
and I don't want to know.
Sometimes medication
disconnects emotion
and you lose your soul.
and I don't know how I feel.
I feel -
nothing.
...
His hands are on my hips
and he's too close
lips pressed against my cheek.
He touches my hair,
my face.
Tells me that I'm beautiful.
Runs gentle fingernails
over my back
and tries to speak.
I'm spaced
out.
Something turned
a light off in
my head.
He kisses my hands,
my head
and I can't react.
Everything feels like
a flashback.
a long way away.
When the music slows,
he pushes me to the wall
and whispers that if
I answer a riddle,
he'll kiss me.
I can't hear it,
but I smile anyway,
and want to laugh.
It's like a bad movie script
with the smoke
and pick-up lines.
Two people hooking up in a club.
It's normal.
So achingly normal.
And I've done it before.
But I'm not normal.
I'm a talentless actress
miming the part
while the words run in my head
and drip away,
heavy drops of ink
staining my skin.
My stranger wants to kiss me,
but I've had too much to drink.
I know that if I let him,
he'd be kissing the
emptiness inside,
and he'd taste more alcohol
than me.
He runs his hands over my scars,
and tries to kiss my wrists.
And suddenly everything goes
dark.
And the shadows
move into my mouth.
Why?
Why are you touching me?
I catch my sister's eyes
smile
and leave.
We disappear.
A stranger's words
follow me -
"Fucking sicko.
Just kill yourself.
Look at your arms.
Kill yourself.
Kill
yourself."
Suggested Collections
last night, at the club.
I just realised how dangerous meds can be
when you feel nothing.
you're not in control.
you could easily let someone take you away,
take you home
because you just feel nothing.
nothing at all.
and then something happens
to cut through the haze
and you're back in your body
feeling things at one hundred miles an hour
shame and guilt and hatred.
I didn't write the worst of it.
the group of girls that said I was disgusting,
that I should die.
the girls that laughed and pointed
kill yourself, kill yourself.
that he kissed my arms
and later came to find me.
put an arm around my shoulders
and said
"what's this?
do you want to tell me?
do you want to talk?"
and the shame was KILLING me
infront of my sister.
all of it said
infront of my sister.
christ.
I don't ever want to leave the house again.
I don't understand when this became my life.
how this became my life.
who the fuck am I?
what happened to me?
I just realised how dangerous meds can be
when you feel nothing.
you're not in control.
you could easily let someone take you away,
take you home
because you just feel nothing.
nothing at all.
and then something happens
to cut through the haze
and you're back in your body
feeling things at one hundred miles an hour
shame and guilt and hatred.
I didn't write the worst of it.
the group of girls that said I was disgusting,
that I should die.
the girls that laughed and pointed
kill yourself, kill yourself.
that he kissed my arms
and later came to find me.
put an arm around my shoulders
and said
"what's this?
do you want to tell me?
do you want to talk?"
and the shame was KILLING me
infront of my sister.
all of it said
infront of my sister.
christ.
I don't ever want to leave the house again.
I don't understand when this became my life.
how this became my life.
who the fuck am I?
what happened to me?
© 2009 - 2024 Rosary0fSighs
Comments20
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This is so sad but so beautiful 