I heard an owl cry on a far tree. The winds rustled along the cold breeze that hit the back of my neck. I seen this place many times before. The trees all in the same position. Same shape and length. The shadows grew deeper as I approached the same spot.
The spot I see when I drift away to a place deep in my thoughts. I gaze at my reflection in the dark water. I saw a lifeless woman who seemed for sweet relief. I was no longer who I saw in my high school yearbook. I am not successful and ambitious. I sunk so low. I can't even get out of bed somedays. There's nowhere I rather be than at the bottom of that lake. My eyes holding the blank expression that won't fade.
My fingertips icy cold.
Turning blue.
I rather be there and not above the surface. I rather be there, my desire to be six feet underground was unbearable
I stood at the edge and felt the night sky as comforting as my death wish.
The moon embraced my being in it's shine. The stars crowded the sky at this time.
I was so close to death
I could feel it
My smile grew deeper and my eyes closed
×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-
I was awoken by my alarm clock, like an incessant child at the toystore, it cried. It went on for a good 5 minutes. I ran my hands through my hair, and stood up. I ran through my closet, pulling out my same old clothes. I brushed my shoulder length hair. It was longer before my last meltdown. Now I'm no longer allowed to be alone with scissors. I wonder why.
I guess I'll never know, as I run my fingers through the lilac strands of my silky smooth locks of hair. I put on my make up, precise and lazy at the same time. Oh well. There's nothing that could hide the dark bags under my eyes. The shades of darkness growing under my eyes ranged from purple to gray and black. Oh how I wish I could cover my tired eyes, I'm always unsuccessful. I can't find a way to hide how I feel. My mind has obsessed over death in ways that are unhealthy. This shouldn't be my problem but how unfortunate that it is.
I add the finishing touches to my appearance, a shell of my former self. What I saw in the mirror, created a deep sense of fear within the depths of my self-conscious.
I threw on my bag on my shoulder, my slouched posture complimented my zombie like walk. I grabbed my keys and I walked out the door of my tiny apartment.
I walked down the sidewalk, moving along the sea of people. I looked and analyzed every single face I came across on my way to work.
Do they also want to die?
Do they also cry to sleep?
Do they swallow sleeping pills in order to rest at night?
Or are they happy with their lives?
I opened the door to the building which I dreaded to enter. The aroma of ink and coffee overcame my nostrils. The friendly smiles rushed at me. I hate all of you......
Third person point of view:
Twenty year old Rosalia Daniel, whose smile was as bright as could be. Or at least once was. But since the tremendous loss she suffered during her her senior year. Rosalia's parents were struck by an incoming drunk driver on the freeway. The pillars of her life were gone she craved nothing but their love and presence. 2 years later,she's recovered or at least progressed slowly but she'll be okay.
