You guys all know that I wasn't really too sure about this piece that I've written because i didn't think that it was coherent enough or very personal *even though it was inspired by a terrifyingly vivid dream* but I got an A* so I thought that I should post it up since Jamie said about doing so a while ago.
Ty to robert for the copyright thingy :)
okay...here goes...tell me what you think...be brutally honest...but no that brutal...i'm hormonal :/ xD
Breathe in and breathe out.
It just hurts too much to even try to explain,
The hopes; my triumphs, all encompassed by pain.
As I remind myself to breathe for the fifth time today I look down at the ink pen bleeding its heart across the paper in my hands. I say, “today”...it’s 4.12am. I shake my head at how willing I now find myself to ridicule what I acknowledge to be normality for me now. There’s nothing left for me to do but write. Try, again, to write.
You should be here.
I wish you could have understood. I wish you could have taken a little more time to listen to me. I wish that you’d have meant it when you said, “I love you.”
You need to know that you killed me when you ended this... ended us. I’ll never let you close enough to hurt me again. I’m keeping my baby and we’re going to build a future together without you.
My palms sting against the scratches from the cool crumpled letter that lay motionless in my clenched fists. Two halves torn apart from each other, the venom and furious life that I’d poured from my pen lost to the shreds that now remained of the paper. Sure, Michael was a swine but i couldn’t even stand to delete his number form my mobile, so much for writing a letter to him. How was I supposed to stand up to him and say, “I don’t need you.” when I couldn’t muster the nerve to believe it myself?
It starts at your throat and spreads to your eyes,
The anguish and terror, the tears that you cry,
Dear Mum and Dad,
I’m sorry that I can’t be Dianna. Sorry for being such a massive disappointment. I know how precious I was to you, how much you wanted for me to be just like Dianna. Of course, I’m far too selfish to fulfil your wishes, I did this on purpose. I wanted to get pregnant at sixteen and wreck my life. You were right to disown me, I only have myself to blame.
One day, when you’re both as anonymous as a single blade of grass to my baby, your grandchild, every inch of you will be riddled with the sickness of regret. When that day comes, I’ll be there for you, just like you’re standing with me today.
Do I sound bitter? Remember, you made me this way.
Sometimes I wish I could just go back to being their little girl. Be just like pretty, popular, perfect big-sister Dianna. Not everyone gets a happy ending though, so what’s the point of wishing, eh? Eight weeks ago, I had nothing more to worry about than GCSE’s. To think, I used to lay awake at night for the stress of exams. Now, I’d give anything to shut my eyes against the outside and flee from this tragedy in which I’m the starring role, if only for the sake of one night’s dreams. Of course my mind won’t let me do that though, oh no, I’m not allowed to trade my reality for a more favourable fantasy. I would if I could... the Lord knows how I would love so dearly to give wing to my imaginings and just fly away.
Away. If only.
All the flipside of day offers to me is the crying. Sometimes it’s the cries from the other women staying in this hostel but most nights I find that they’re my own tears that I can hear crashing against the cotton of my pillow. My old life seems so sweet to me now, I could laugh at the preposterous simplicity. I could laugh, save for the chokehold my hurt locks me into. I might have sent this letter to beloved Mummy and Daddy; it’s the sixth draft after all, if the ink wasn’t dribbling down the page in a blue and salted stain; taking the place of my pillow tonight.
All purity has fled now, left is disgrace,
Too broken down, torn up; this faith-shattered face,
The Royal Surrey County Hospital NHS Foundation Trust
19th November 2009
Dear Dr. Sinha,
I’m writing to request an appointment for a sonogram. I’m currently in the eighth week of gestation and have been advised by the nurses in the support group I’m living with to have an early ultrasound. I understand that at this point during the pregnancy you’ll be able to confirm whether I can expect single or multiple births and I look forward to seeing the first grainy images of my baby!
I have no arrangements made for the next few weeks so I think that we should be able to find a suitable date fairly easily.
You can contact me on 07726326109
Miss K. Schulte
This one needs to be sent. I’ve made some mistakes in my life but I can’t let my selfishness ruin my child’s life too.
“Baby,” I whisper softly to my barely swollen tummy “The nurses here told me that it’s impossible to tell whether you’re a boy or a girl yet but I think I can tell. You feel like a crazy little boy just dying to get out and start kicking a ball around. I’d call you Michael - but I can’t seem to force my lips into murmuring that name without a shiver quivering across my chest. No, you feel like an Edward to me, my gorgeous, handsome little Eddie. I won’t let you down.”
I uncrossed my fingers. I couldn’t promise Eddie a thing, nothing that he needed anyway. Who needs a hormonal teen’s tears? Apart from manipulative therapists who charge you for crying by the hour; but that’s neither here nor there.
I know that Eddie’s resting his head right here inside of me but I’ve never felt more empty. The single heart beat drumming through my chest only serves to remind me that I’m doing this alone.
My parents aren’t here.
Michael doesn’t want to know.
My friends? Can I even call them that anymore?
I like to think that I’m doing this for Eddie. I coax myself into truly believing that I’m strong, I’m so very brave for keeping him despite everything- almost – I just about believe my own mind’s nervous ramblings about how much courage I must have. Then the nights come. They hazily creep, cloaked in fuchsias, violets and burnt marigolds before cruelly hurling dark ooze across the Sun’s hopeful face. The black smothers the bright, burning chance and opportunity that Sun offers and in its place leaves Silence. Hollow. Cold. It seeps from the sky, down through the clouds to find me and bind me in its harsh embrace. Every night, the same, the desolate broken echoes of my shattering heart flood around me. I try so hard, so damn hard to convince myself that I’m fearless to carry on for the both of us but I know the truth. I’m scared, I’m lost and I have nobody, no warm hands to hold mine and not a single face I recognise to whisper a reassuring, “Everything will be okay,” to me. I’m just a kid. I’m nothing but some horribly frightened little girl being held together by an infant soul growing within, Eddie holding me together from the inside out.
In just one blink the bubble is burst,
your rainbow unweaved all happiness cursed.
Breathe in and breathe out.
so? any good? :)
btw, does anyone recognise the shreads of poetry in there? I wrote that over a year ago, isn't that mad that time's flown by so quickly?
We were supposed to write between 600 and 800 words and in the end i think i wrote about 1200...hang on, i'll have a look...1253.
oh come on. how could i write to that kind of word limit?! I digress about dinner, how can i limit myself when i'm actually writing about something important?
Today wasn't bad but I've had tummy cramps since abou lunch which are really painful. I usually don't get them and they're feeling a tad better now so i can't really complain...
that's all folks *rock on for loony tunes!*
I love this pic, it was taken on cazza's blackberry yesterday...and check out my bleached jacket!!! xD
Peace and love