An Attempt to Escape
February 14, 2014 § Leave a comment
She untied her hair and let it go. It fell down below her shoulders, like waves in the ocean from tempestuous wind, above the dimples that form beside the bottom of her spine. It was as red as the colour of her lips when they met his. She unbuttoned her shirt and freed herself from the leggings that hugged her legs so tightly. “Finally”, she thought, “I’m alone again”. Her toes palpated the hot water that run from the tap of her bath tub, and when ready, they informed the rest of her leg to proceed, as it was safe to go on. Her leg followed, and so did the other one, and she lay as Cleopatra would lay down in a milk bath. Half of her body was sinking, when the other half could still breathe; she was amidst two worlds, at the same time. Her eyes fixated on the ceiling, and then down to the water that looked like a microscopic waterfall. Her mind sent off all of its worries to the limbs that saved her from drowning, vein to vein, they seemed to be released into the water that surrounded her through osmosis. As though, it was possible, for one to be one with water, for one to share its sorrows with the ocean. It was an ocean of thoughts in her head, and as she lay longer, as the water streamed faster, the thoughts were flooding the tub she lay in. Slowly, slowly, slowly, she let herself go, as she freed her hair, she allowed the words to stumble outside of her, into the mists forming on the mirror, and the condensed air forming near her, she let it go.
Her vision blurred and bedimmed as the blear escalated like the thoughts that filled the murky atmosphere, she slowly let her eyes go as the room appeared cloudy when her eyes fell asleep. Her body continued to drown into the Cosmo of her own as she let go.
A sound knock-knock-knock-ed on the door, her eyes gave in and her voice creaked, “Taking a shower!” in disposition. She compelled her back to an upright position and gazed at the tap water, still running, thereupon looked below at her crossed legs, and to her hands, as she motioned them to form a fist and unravel open whilst waving them around, slowly, slowly, slowly. She stood up and sideswiped the button that forms clouds above her head, and rains hot, hot, hot, tears. She looked up, and surrendered her eyes shut, as she let the tears from above her fall on her auburn hair, the tattooed freckles on her shoulders, and the lightening scars that represented her mislaid and wayward days. Even if she were to fall into a coma, the scar would stay settled above her hips and to her neck, like a stash she had won for being outside on an unwelcoming evening.
In an abrupt manner, her eyes began to dry, as though the water that streamed from above her was not enough, as though the water was nothing but the tears that cannot excrete from her tear glands, but from the cloud above her. Her vision started to cloud as she quickly turned her head downwards and curled into what appeared to be a semicircle; as she stood there, holding her head and clutching on to her hair, trying to physically remove the people inside of her, she dug into the inside of her skull. Her thoughts are coming back. Her thoughts have begun condensing on the mirror and in the rain, they fell on her like the lightning struck her that night. She patted the button again, and left, she wore her shirt, her leggings, and took a deep breath “Again. I can do this one more time”.
She opened the door and felt a cold breeze on her neck that whispered, “Welcome back to hell”.