Wildflowers

I imagine pushing her down and banging her head on the wall.The feeling of my fingers against her throat as she chokes.The pure rush after breathing in the metallic scent of blood on my own hands.Standing there feeling proud,accomplished even at my own handiwork.I imagine the desperation,the needy whimpers that come out of her mouth,pleading for me to stop but I continue doing the deed until her pulse weakens.And suddenly all of it stops.A heavy silence descends and I leave her among the daffodils to sleep in peace.

Heavy breathing surrounds me and I realize its mine.I have been having this dream ever since I came here.This place does bad things to my imagination.Here it runs wild even though we are surrounded by tall brick walls.I have a small window to my room.The view is an elm that has branches with velvety moss.I imagine a rope hanging there.A nice end with wind blowing you as long as you can ignore the walls.I used to have a roommate.Pretty little thing with big brown eyes.She chose the elm as an end.I was angry that I hadn’t though of it before.Then came the sobs and as the tears rolled down I could see everything covered in blood,my own.After that the orderlies strapped me to the electric chair.It hurt I suppose but I didn’t feel it after a while.There was this strange numbness that overtook me.

I want to know how it feels.The blood gushing down your wounds.I just can’t place myself feeling any pain but giving it to others. I was discovered strangling the neighbor’s bird.It was a peculiar sound, sort of gasp and then the silence. I was pleased but they caught me.Sent me here to the room with a view.They try to hurt me,control my impulses.They say it’s not incurable but I’ll be here for a while now.

They don’t know yet what happened to my sister.She is still lying there in the wild flowers next to the river I guess.They never found her,they never suspected me.They had a search carried out for months but with no result.I hope they find her one day.Decaying and rotting,gazing into the oblivion.

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Pills

I spend most of the nights,turning and twisting in bed,chasing sleep and barely after an hour,I wake up unable to stay put and relax.My curtains are always closed,the room has to be dark even in daytime,light irritates my eyes.My door is always closed,the only time it opens is when someone comes to check in on me.I’m always in bed,a thick blanket eloped around me in the most claustrophobic manner.The AC is always on,the room clinically cold and clean.My bedside drawer has numerous bottles filled with tablets and pills, now half empty.The most fascinating thing are the shapes and sizes and the colors of the tabs,my very own rainbow.The blue small pills to reduce headaches,the green round pills for reducing panic attacks,the white ones to induce sleep,the pink capsules for alleviating stress.

The doctors say I have clinical depression,social anxiety.At first they tried therapy,homeopathy and finally psychotherapy. They consider me a project,something to work on,the one that is ‘difficult case’.It all actually started from my parents divorce,two very ambitious individuals,finally ending it after 10 years and walking separate paths.I have had issues since i was 11 years old and they got into full bloom after I turned 19.A few failed visits to a mental institution or as they say”nut house”,my parents kept me at home.They barely even visited me twice a day.All my friends visited once a week or so.Many were scared looking at my hollow eyes,some stopped visiting slowly with excuses  such as tests,homework,girlfriends,parents,school etc.I understand their fear,reluctance.If I were them even I would get scared and stop.I want to stop actually,living is tough especially when your mind is foggy most of the times and you swallow at-least 5 pills with every meal.

I have started writing letters now.All of addressed to important people in my life.I think i have had a lot of unexpressed emotions,I would like to let out.The letters written to my parents highlights their ignorance towards me,the letter to my best friend tells the truth about her ex boyfriend and me.The letter to the boy I loved is in a fragrant envelope with a zip-lock pouch holding a pendant he’d given me.There is a paper listing all my prized possessions,mainly books to be given out to various people.A tiny goody bag for my cat.Hopefully everyone will remember me as I was before the illness took toll on my brain.I have been hoarding the antidepressants for weeks now,under my mattress.I have calculated and taken in consideration all the risks.Now all I need to the courage to swallow the pills,do the deed.A part of me is scared of the aftermath,the mark my action will leave on everyone. I know it’s selfish but it’s the right thing,my only escape.I will finally find my peace and the emptiness will fade away.

I hope they bury me in a pretty dress.

 

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