Simulation 26, Part 2

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“Why do you do this to yourself?”

 

***

 

You’re cowering in the closet again. Eyes tightly shut, face pressed as close to the wall as you can get it. There’s a crash, the sound of broken cookery and smashed items from beyond the door. Before, before you would have gone to see, to check and make sure. Now you just bury your nose deeper into the corner.

 

Outside the screaming continues, inaudible yet you know its vicious and hateful. You don’t need to hear the words to know the tone. It’s the same song and dance day after day.

 

Feelings are hurts, words are used as if they are just sharpened knives, and gapping wounds are made.

 

On and on it goes. Endless it seems until it’s not. Silence reigns and continues to grow. Cautiously you pull away from your corner. Ear pressed to the door you listen, silence.

 

You go into the kitchen. It’s vacant. Strewn around are the remnants of a once immaculate table.  With an air of long practice and light feet you begin to pick up the pieces of your life.

 

***

 

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen”, you count quietly under your breath nails digging into your thighs.  Four bloody trails roll down the slope of you body, pooling in the crease of your groin.

 

“Twenty.” Slowly your fingers relax their grip.

 

You stare at you bloody nails frowning. Meticulously you begin the clean up. Using your thumb to clean the moist blood and flesh from under your nails. One hand at a time wiping every so often at a near by tissue. Four tissues later you fingers are as immaculate at they will be.  You should get a manicure soon; you frown down at your ragged cuticles.

 

Peroxide next, you don’t want the cuts to get infected, infections lead to sickness and sickness leads to questions. And you have too many scars and not enough good answers.

 

You bite your lip at the burn of it but not bloody, not anymore you’re an old hat at this now.

 

***

 

The you that stares back in the mirror doesn’t look like what you think you look like.  This person has to be you though. This weak, sad, pathetic creature is you. This pale, shallow skinned, limp haired, sad sack of flesh is all you’ve got.

 

You purse your lips and try to image what it’d be like to be attractive. You can’t. You try to smile bright and huge like you’ve seen others do, you grimace. Your teeth are crooked and stained yellow, your lips too thin on the top and too puffy on the bottom. You look like a crazed person, the kind people move across the street to avoid. No, smiling won’t make you more attractive.

 

You away from the mirror and flop backwards, just short of missing your bed. Your ceiling is far more attractive than you are.

 

Suddenly there’s the sound of a door slamming into a wall, the bonce back and it slamming shut. You freeze, deer in headlight stupid and in the way. Maybe if you don’t breath no one will know you’re here.

 

Hold it.

 

Hold it.

 

 

Hold it.

 

 

Hold it.

 

 

 

Hold it.

 

Door slams.

 

You breathe again. No you think you need to be braver first.

 

***

 

“This is so I never forget”

 

. . . Terminate Simulation 26 . . .

Guest Writer 1

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So we promised guest writers and we have started! Welcome Imani! Our first guest writer!

Here’s a brief write up from our special guest:

Mostly Imani just thinks she’s awesome. She has a mostly boring life however that says otherwise but everyone’s got to have dreams. Imani in turn has a cat, a five year plan, student loans out the wazoo and a fondness for 2nd person fiction. She can be found here on twitter (displaying her not so hidden love of Calvin & Hobbes or here at the blog she never updates because her life really isn’t as awesome as she likes to tell people it is.

Thanks for joining us this week, Imani!

Game(Rules), Part 1

guesticonYou play this game with yourself. It’s not a fun game – and to be fair it’s less of a game and more of a set of rules but really who’s to stop you from calling it a game in the comforts of your own head? This is a game you’re long since familiar with. Each day is a new day of play. Your game is a solitary one but then again most of your life is. You’d say you prefer it that way but that’s a lie and you do your level best not to lie to yourself, you lie to too many other people about too many other things.

 

You keep the rules of your game (your life) simple less you forget them; trying to remember things is part of the game as well. Level one goes like this (rule one:) If you get up without hitting the snooze you can eat whatever you like for breakfast, no one will judge you. Rewards are key to success, keep all rewards equal to in value to the task accomplished.

 

Level two (Rule two:) Game face must be worn from the second you step foot out the door till the second you return at the end of the day. You don’t want anyone to know that what you’re saying on the outside doesn’t match what you’re thinking on the inside. When you were younger – naive and foolish and oh so much younger – this was a hard and you lost this level a lot (broke this rule a lot). It was even harder back before when you lived with other people the space that made up “safe space” and “every place else” was a lot smaller. There was less down time, you slipped a lot, gave away things, said little things you thought were okay that were definitely Not Good. Older you, current you, you don’t live with anyone, you’ll never make that mistake again. A Good Day earns you…well this earns you nothing but the lack of stress and in turn if you fail the stress to be Better is it’s own punishment.

 

Level three (Rule three:) write everything down. Where you’ve been, who you saw, what you’ve told them, if you ate today, what you ate today, did you wear that shirt this week. Everything because details are important and getting tripped up because you can’t remember the details would be the most shameful way to get caught. And getting caught forgetting isn’t something you ever want to image the ramifications of. If you go the day without messing up, without having to confer with your notes in an obvious way – because what would be the point of keeping notes if you didn’t look at them? – you gpet to go home and do nothing. Absolutely nothing and it is the most glorious thing to do, your most favorite thing to do. If you fail however the punishment is to put yourself through your paces. To go through your notes and study, everything until you know it so well you dream it.

 

Your game is simple and it keeps your life uncomplicated and you protected. You exist within the parameters of your game and you find great comfort in knowing that these are things you’ve done and can continue to do.

 

Once back a long long time ago you tried to think of a way for your game to end. You tried slowly once to ease out of it, to do what other people seemed to do but it left you feeling….wrong. Too many comments were made, about your pyshical state of being, your mental state of awareness and really just all the things you want people not to look to hard and long at.