Look Again

Look Again

A Story by Circadian

Look at yourself.

You're sitting in a park, laughing with friends as the snow falls in little piles in your hair and on the shoulders of your not-quite-warm-enough sweatshirt. Laughing as he goes to slide out on the frozen pond only to be met with a faceful of ice and a bloody nose. The six of you, huddling together for warmth like a flock of emporer penguins waiting for their mates to return on the barren Antarctic landscape.

Look again.

Your mom picks you up and rolls her eyes as you crank the heat in her battered SUV. It's going to be Christmas soon and you know she's just as excited as you to get out on break- perks of having a teacher for a mom. You laugh and carry on the entirety of the long car ride home, about how so-and-so can't always messes up that note on the tuba or whatserface nods her head as she belts out notes with the choir, so off-tune.

Look again.

Your dad watches you come through the door. He's mad. Points to the lopsided desk with a pile of screws sitting on top, the one you were supposed to fix. He yells, but your mom isn't there to defend you this time. You run upstiars- he wn't find you there.

Look again.

You're standing stark naked except for your socks, shower running behind you in the mirror. Twisted bits of plastic cut from a safety razor stick to the linoleum. You've got your tool.

Look again.

Water running down your back, sliding it again and again across your skin. You'l never do it again, you swear.

Look again.

You're bleeding again. Your sister is onto you. This is the day you stop. Cold-turkey. It's been eight moths, it's okay.

Look again.

You're sitting in a bathroom stall picking off purpling scabs with a paperclip. Something yellow comes out.

Look again.

You've really done it this time. Crooked-nose comes to visit you in your speckled gown, arm wrapped up like a pretty present. Cold it be him all those months ago, him who had you rolling on the snow with laughter while blood soaked his gloves? He tells you somethings wrong, he's gonna have to buy a new black suit soon, curl up with his computer and play her favorite songs for them, pictures of a lost face, the one who brought him into this world in the first place.

Look again.

Drowning in butterflies. They'll stay alive, you swear you'd never kill them.

Look again.

Wings flutter to the floor, floating on drops of red.

Look again.

Screams, the mom who never cried sobbibg at your side, lifted up, lights, so many lights. Frantic running, commands, yells, beeping. A long, lonely tone. Silence.

Look again.

He's going to need to wash that suit.

© 2012 Circadian

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Ouch. Sounds nasty. (the paperclip part)

Posted 9 Years Ago


9 Years Ago

Yeah. Don't try it...it hurts. >.< haha

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1 Review
Added on August 29, 2012
Last Updated on August 29, 2012
Tags: self harm, you, anger, change, secret, future



Portland, MI

A socially awkward, born-and-raised musician who happens to dabble in calligraphy and cartoonery and write-ery. O.o more..

Chapter I Chapter I

A Chapter by Circadian