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There came a time when her heart was too heavy. Weighted with guilt and despair, it took up too much room. It held her down. She rarely stepped out of her bed, in and out of sleep all day. She would dream about doing things   ̶ regular, every day things   ̶ but she would never actually do them. She envied her friends, all of them away at school or happily, blindly employed. Why couldn't she be blind? Why couldn't she be happy with that life? With the easy route? Why was everything so complicated.

She turned over in her sheets and sighed. Her vision was bleary; she couldn't tell if the clock read one or nine. Not that it mattered. Tears trickled hotly down her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. She only wished they wouldn't soak her pillow so. These were not tears born of hysterics, neither were they the ravenous tears of anger or frustration. These were sad tears. Truly, deeply sad tears.

This is never going to work, she realized. Also, she noted, she'd been stupid to turn in her bottle of escape. Before, it had been a quick fix to a much larger problem; now, she wanted to leave entirely, to leave this sad life and this sad body behind...and she couldn't do it. There was no means, no safe method. Not anymore. Stupid, she chastised herself.

So, she turned over again. The sunlight was mostly gone from her window. So, nine it was, then. The light faded, leaving her behind. The dark would fade too, eventually, and the cycle would begin again. Day and night, night and day...nothing and nobody disturbed her in her little nest of miseries. She wished someone would. She wished someone would march in her house, kick down her door, pick her up and toss her in the ocean; surely the frigid, churning waves would be better than this. She didn't want to be rescued, she only wanted a wake-up call.

But nobody came. Nobody came to rescue her, and nobody came to wake her up. The world, in all its entirety, moved around her, avoiding her. That's what killed her, in the end. The world avoided her when she needed it most, and so she compartmentalized every little detail, every single snag until it rivaled her very self. Maybe, if the world hadn't avoided her, she might have lived.

But, such is the fate of heavy hearts.  
written in the middle of a hard night.
© 2011 - 2024 Monroe-West
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