page story 'Helping hands'

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aidenwillows
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page story 'Helping hands'

Post by aidenwillows » Sun Oct 24, 2010 2:40 am

before you read this, please know i was a junior in high school. we had an hour to write something... this is what i came up with. needless to say, i was sent to the school counselor, who i was already seeing on a weekly basis... they tell you to be creative and you do... and they send you to the counselor... :shakes head:
either way, this is one of my favorite and best things i have written in one sitting... hope you enjoy...
and please know, i am not a crazy person... i just write best when i am depressed or in a weird mood... so things often end up being rather... twisted...




I was very mistaken to have thought that there was one ounce of sanity left inside me. I wanted to just run and jump off the bridge. I saw her face... again and again... following me through the streets. Reflecting off of the store windows... I ran as fast as I could chasing her reflection... chasing my sanity... hoping it would still be there. But, as I rounded the corner... there was nothing. I stood staring out at the open sea. I knew if I jumped it would be the end, but I felt as though it was the only answer to my problems. But, there had to be something else. I reached into my back pocket and read the paper one more time...

You are my everything. You were all I ever wanted. I thought I could trust you... you were all I had left in this world. Now... there is no reason for me to live.

I saw bubbles float to the surface of the water... and a scuba diver floated violently to the gentle blue green hue of the sea. The traffic lights lit the dim back alley. The smell of garbage flowed through my veins as I inhaled... old cheeseburgers, rotten pickles, old chocolates and urine. It was sickening. I walked as quickly as I could through the alley to get back to the main street. I began walking back to my apartment. I could not believe it had already been a year. She had been gone a year. I always carried her picture and note in my wallet... hoping someday I would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream. But, there was no such luck in this even of my life.

I entered my building, grabbing my keys from my pocket. I waved at a few tenants leaving. I never say hello anymore. My voice, was never heard after that day. I never talked to anyone. My mother would come over with my brother... and we would sit... and stare... nothing was ever said. I had nothing to say. There was nothing to even think about that would make me feel any better. Guilt creeps through my veins... slowly... like my blood had run cold.

I sat in the new bath tub, candles lit around me staring across the room at the old tub. The violin of despair was squeaking in my ear. My shadow was playing games with me, creeping closer after every candle flickered. I knew she was still there... following me, haunting me... depressed and lonely. Her face always followed me, and kept me from doing anything. I never slept for more than one hour a night. Her reflection in my mirror... as though it were going to strangle me. I could feel the cold gripping hands around my face, around my neck... slowly running her icy cold hands down my back and ready to choke me in my sleep. I knew she was there... she would not leave me alone. I was trying my hardest to ignore her, but the doctors kept telling me she was not there... I knew she was there. I felt her hands... I saw her face... I saw the bubbles...

The pictures sat around the bathroom. Some in frames, some loosely clinging to the wall. I took pictures of our apartment and there were blurs, people call them developing errors... I say they are her. I see her face in them, I knew she is there.

My last candle went out. I could no longer see the reflection in the mirror... and I felt the cold hands again, on the back of my neck... the fingers running through my hair, the soft cold hands... sent chills down my spine. I wanted to be alone... but she would not leave me alone. No one knew my secret. No one knew I was the one who wrote the note, the one who made the bubbles... I was the one who felt the pain of her nails digging in my arms as she struggled for air.

I wanted to help her, but nothing I ever did was good enough, I just decided one day that she needed to get some help. My strong hands helped her to reach that goal she kept trying for. Sure, I loved her... that was why I helped her.

Read more: http://www.myspace.com/tuk_candy4m_strangrz/blog?page=4#ixzz13GtWUpoP

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