Amanda Creen

1. Life goes on

My morning is just the same as everyday. I crawl out of my cheep second hand bed, walking on that gross orange carpet that i found on the side of the road. I walk to the bathroom and look at my reflection. Same old perfect, fine face that so many people say should be in a magazine or movie. I look Down and see an old, ripped nightie that I have owned since I was a teenager. My body is slim, fit and what most would call beautiful, but that is never a useful thing in adulthood. Everything is certificate this and certificate that. There is no such thing as talent if you don't have a piece of paper telling someone what you can and can't do. And that's how I'm here. I've got the voice and looks, but I never used them. I never went out of my way to try and accomplish something amazing. My family love to tell me all about how I could have been a model, musician, movie star or whatever they can think of that will bring me down. As my mind races through all of my thought, i notice that i have been standing in the steaming hot shower water. It's strange that that i can fall into the dark abyss of my mind and not know where i am. It's like closing your eyes and waking up three hours latter. This happens a lot. Almost everyday. And the abyss keeps growing and growing. What will happen when I am devoured by this darkness? Will i be able to come back to the real world? And this is what i have been asking my self for the last year. When the walls started to cave in on that horrific day.
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After getting bored of watching useless television, i walk out of my small shoe box room and into the thin long hall. This hall runs through most of the house, apart from the dining room and kitchen on one end and the living room on the other. I live in a small house, all alone with the creaking planks of this old house and the feral animals living in the walls. I haven't always lived alone. Back when i was 23, there were 2 other people living in this house. Wonderful people. But i only got to know one of them for a short amount of time and after that, the other one moved out. Two beautiful people who went by the name of Rose and John. Oh how i miss them so very much. But no, I can not think bout this. I promised myself to never go back to those memories but i always catch myself doing it. It's almost like i want to remember. But how? How can i want to remember that dreadful time? How?
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As i walk out my door, with my huge puffer jacket and my wooly pants, I remember that i left my phone inside. I almost run back to get it but why would I when no one will call or ask a favour. I dont know many people. Mostly just family and high school friend, but most of them i stoped talking to. It's not because I didn't like them, i just dont like people in general. People who are too happy, too hyper or and loud are not who i would like to hang out with. I'd even go to an extent to not walk somewhere and change my direction if i see someone who is talking loud and happy. I have always been this way. Closed off, quiet, antisocial. Maybe thats why i never became famous. Maybe its because i never put myself out there, never tried to be something. But then again, i dont think i could ever be famous, no matter how pretty and perfect i am. I reach a park bench that I see far too often. It's an old bench, hiding in plain sight. Behind it is a park, full of green trees and bright flowers but there it is, sitting at the end of the park, near the edge of a cliff. A beautiful view. I sit down, gazing into that perfect line where the water and sky mean. Not many people would look at a horizon the way i do. Sure they may if there is a sunset or a moon reflecting off the water, but i find it magnificent. To think that the sky above you could somewhere, somehow, meet with the sea. When i look at the horizon, i see the vast space that goes on and on, never stoping for anyone because no one can. No one will ever be able to explore the whole universe because it is so huge. It's almost like me. When people look at me, they think there must be one layer, one star but there is always many more. Many layers piling up inside of me, never to come out and that is very much like the universe.
I find myself standing at the edge of the cliff. Just standing there, looking down at the rocks bellow. I have never been afraid of death. Many say that they have too much to live for or are too young to die but i believe that death is fate and if it happens, then it was meant to happen. So as i stair down at the rocks i wonder, what would death be like? Is it cold and dark, warm and bright? Could it be painful and colourful or just an abyss that i can sit in for eternity? It would be nice to just sit, with no interruptions, and jump into the world of my thoughts, to spend days just starring at a blank piece of paper. May wound get bored and lonely, want company and something to do but that is how I want to die, to be with myself and no one else. I walk home with that cliffs drop stuck in my mind like a song stuck in your head.