literature

cancrizans.

Deviation Actions

Published: Jun 1, 2009

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Literature Text

^{v.

saturday. i woke up again this morning. it's raining, too. i remember last night i made a deal with myself. for a minute, i listen to the symphony or the raindrops colliding with the glass, that hollow sound of their lives ending, before i turn over to glance at the alarm clock. it's 7:34 am, overcast, peaceful. i pull open the top drawer in the nightstand and pull out my bottle of prozac containing the last 10 pills. i've been saving them up for this.

iv.

friday. i spent the day just walking around town. too much reminded me of you. the corner store where you used to buy me sweets, the park where we lay on the grass and whispered in each others' ears, the clothing store you liked to shop at. it was sunny out, but i was still cold, shivering in my leather jacket that still smells like you. when i got home, i drank some voddy straight out of the bottle and smoked half a pack gauloises, got in bed and just thought about you. if it's sunny tomorrow when i wake up, i won't kill myself. it will mean there's still hope.

iii.

monday. i visited you again today. you had nothing to say, as usual. you just lay there, silent. maybe you were ignoring me, maybe you just had nothing to say. i wish you'd speak to me. i really miss you, and i'm sorry for what happened. it was my fault, it was all my damn fault. i'm so, so sorry. i wish you'd come back, but i know you can't. i brought you some flowers, but you didn't even look at them. i don't even know if you looked at me, you just stared straight ahead while i babbled uselessly and cried. i wished i could hold you, i told you that, but still you said nothing. after a few hours, i left because i couldn't stand seeing you like that.

ii.

tuesday. there was blood everywhere. that's all i remember. sirens, a tire rolling across the freeway, and blood. they loaded you onto a stretcher and into an ambulance, but i knew they were too late since you were covered in black instead of white, and they zipped it up over your head. i just sat with my arms wrapped around myself, unable to cry or feel anything, just disbelief that you were gone. i tried to tell myself that it wasn't you in that body bag, but i couldn't since it was your motorcycle under that semi truck. it was supposed to be me in the morgue, on that freezing table, but no, it's you. and it's my fault. i didn't know.

i.

tuesday. we fought today, for the first time. i was upset that you were paying more attention to your 'friend' than me. you said i was jealous and that i was overreacting, that it was nothing, but i still screamed in your face. it pissed you off. you started shouting back, but when i shoved you into the counter, we both froze. i started crying, holding out my arms and trying to explain that i was sorry, but you cut me off, your eyes tearing up, and you told me you were going out, you might be back later. you grabbed the keys to your bike and slammed the door, leaving me to collapse on the couch with my head in my hands. i hoped you'd come back, but somehow i knew you wouldn't.}

^{cancrizans - (adj.) moving backwards.

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edit
wow i can't believe this got a DLD.
/edit

for ~Candela-di-Vita's contest, where you write something backwards.
go enter, deadline is wednesday, july 1st.
or not, but writing backwards is a fun challenge!
try it.

you can read it backwards to get it to completely make sense.

kind of inspired by ~estallidos's one like this, where she says 'telling a sad story backwards doesn't give it a happy ending.'
i kind of applied that here.
also kind of inspired by Paint It Black by Janet Fitch, only it's from a woman's perspective instead of a man's.

listening to 'better than me' by hinder.
it's my song right now.

sad day, cried too damn much.
this came out.

poem (c) ~L-forever}