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Writer's Block: Get It to Go

What's your favorite thing to order for takeout (or takeaway)?
Indian...mmmm nan


 She stood, back firmly pressed against the corner of the wall. Shaking uncontrollably, gasping for air as she half wept, half screamed. Slowly she began to slide down the wall, the exposed nails penetrating her skin as she did so, but she didn't feel a thing. All she could see was the blood slowly creeping down her arms, like a virus, taking control of her body. All she could hear was the screams of her mother's shrill piercing screaming. She wanted the noise to stop, she needed the silence to think. She went to yell for her mother to shut up, but no noise came out. It occurred to her that her mother was not screaming, the noise was her own. When did she even start screaming? She looked up, she wasn't at home, her parents weren't even there. They're dead God dam it. Of course they're dead. They died years ago. When did this happen? When did she get here? When did she start screaming? When did she become her mother? Of course, the knife, the yelling, the knife. The knife, the knife, the knife...oh no what have I done? Was he dead? Did I kill him? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. She began to sob again, irrepressible, hysterical. Hyperventilating she began to feel dizzy. She placed her hands on her forehead, running her hands through her hair, in doing so smearing the blood all over her. Isn't it funny how you can feel nothing for years, be completely dead inside and the day you decide to go through with it, the day you finally get the fucking courage, unforeseen events lead to...this. She looked at her boyfriend. Why did he try and stop her? The fool! He could have let her be. It makes no difference in the long run. She was ready. She had it planned. The note was there. But he forgot his suitcase. He was so intelligent, so funny, so good looking, so...perfect. But that didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not ever and especially not now. For what was the perfect boyfriend and the perfect life if there was no reason to live it? He deserved better. She loved him. Of course she did. But that wasn't enough. He didn't understand why it wasn't enough. ARGH! She had been searching for answers her entire life, and this is were it got her. This day was well overdue. None of this should have happened. She hated herself more than ever. So much so that it made it harder, she wanted herself to suffer for what she did. She could never do anything right. Calm as ever she immediately stopped sobbing, stopped shaking, she stopped. She looked at her boyfriends wound. She was in training. She knew what to do. She found her medical kit. She clamped and cleaned, and stitched. It wasn't the worlds best job, but it was good under the circumstances. He had not lost enough blood to do any permanent damage. She picked up the phone, dialed the ambulance; an emergency. The front door was unlocked; she opened it. It would be easier for them to come right in. She walked into the bathroom, the knife in hand, locked the door and cut furiously. It hurt. But she deserved every inch of excruciating pain she could create. It didn't take long to fall unconscious. It took longer to find her. She was smiling; it was over.

They're only chasing safety

 Tonight's your last chance to, do exactly what you want to.

This is ridiculous; I'm living a half life 'white fella only live a half life' 
There has got to be more to this...
If there is will I find it? Before it's too late?
'laughing as though it was a game; but it wasn't'
Trauma finally taking its toll, that's there excuse, so where is yours?
I can't be a good friend; so how can I be a good girlfriend?
He lies to me and I know it...I lie to him and he knows it...where does it end?
Where does it end?
Does it end?
Black & White?
Heaven and Hell?
And the pressure; fuck the pressure...
I can't take that shit anymore
I'm at breaking point...about to snap...crumble and fall
'till death, a wooden box and a whole pile of dirt part us'
If you had the answers would you tell me?


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