They told me everyone is looking for something. Searching, seeking, whatever. They said I should start looking, too, because I never know what's out there, what’s watching, what’s waiting. They told me writing would help me; help me search for something. Anything. They told me I had nothing to lose, nothing to be afraid of. Fuck that. Fuck the writing. Fuck the searching. What would they know about afraid. I just want out.
See, whenever there's a mirror, it's always my eyes that channel fear into me. They're not the muddy puddles they used to be. My eyes have become too deep, too cold, too dark, and I can’t see the floor or the surface anymore. It's an ocean, an eternity filled with secrets, swamped in silence. It's all too much.
It’s gotten to the point where I can’t walk past my reflection anymore, without the terror leaping out and plunging fish-hooks through my flesh. A mad fist of panic clutches up inside me. The sun tips sideways, my veins burn, but I can’t look away. I can’t look away. Never.
And the same thing happens when I look at an empty page; my own eyes burn themselves into my vision. I’m staring at myself, and my chest seizes up, the sun capsizes into my blood. It happens every time. You’d think I’d get used to it after all these months, but it doesn’t work like that. Some things don’t subside, sometimes you can’t go numb.
I didn’t believe them, not a word they said, not about the searching. I’m not looking for anything. I don’t need something to find. They said it’s okay if I’m scared. I know it’s not. Scared is never okay. They said sometimes scared makes you perform better, like nerves before an exam. No, no, my scared isn’t like that, I said. My scared is like the sun abandoning all hope, tossing away the planets because everything’s too much. The oceans are too wet, the valleys too low, and space too empty, cold and lonely.
But they couldn’t understand. They asked more questions, but there wasn’t another way I could explain it. They were still searching. They still needed something. Me, I just had too much, and it’s still there inside me. It’s all there, burning, beating, breathing. There’s so much inside me, so much I need to lose. I don’t need to search.
One day I’m going to throw my hands out at the sky, throw everything away, throw myself away. I’m waiting for the day I explode. It’ll be a supernova, a split second where I’m ubiquitous, then black, then nothing.
I’m not searching. I still don’t believe them, what they said about anything, but I started writing. I thought I might lose something, anything please, with each little word I write. But it’s not like that. The eyes are still here, watching me, waiting, just as deep as ever. The words don’t stop the fear. Nothing numbs this fear. These words won’t stop me existing, but it’s better than lying here waiting for sleep come.
Better than just lingering, waiting for the darkness to lose me.
In a list
A contest entry
- Enter Your best. by Antebellum.
550 points, ended July 9, 2009, 159 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - PREWRITES! by forbidden-colour.
400 points, ended August 10, 2009, 109 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critique please.
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
-
I agree with your begining statement, more than any other in this poem.
As every single person on this planet is either ignorant or free in my opinion.
Those who have inadiquate personalities and the ignorant. choose religion, those of us who see the world for what it is - are left searching for a crumb of salvation that cannot be offered by any God, or person.
Thank you for entering.
Sophie
. -
Thanks so much for entering.
[if you end up in the finals I will comment better]
-
Ubiquitous.
-
I like all the parts where you talked about the sun.
They were beaaautiful<3.
would say more but I gotta go, but heart-wrenching write!
xo -
if thats acting then i shudder to think what youre like when writing from the heart 0.0
-
-
thanks honey
-
-
Wow, a powerful, frightening write. You have used imagery and repetition to sear your message onto the readers mind.
Makes me want to know --what I can do to help?
-
-
This piece was like acting for me actually; I don't live with this fear. I'm trying to write from this character's perspective, so I'm still working out how much of her might be like me.
Just having you read this and find it believable enough to think it's real is loads of help, thank you thank you.
-
-
Very cool. Even more impressive knowing that it is written from another character's perspective. I remember while I was reading thinking that this kind of stuff didnt really remind me of you and the VOICE I'm used to hearing from you, but the further I read, I just thought, whoa, something terrible must have happened in this girl's life. Afterall, I thought, I haven't read her in a while. So, yes, you did manage to convince me! And even against my own better judgement. YOU ROCK!
I think all of us can identify with the girl here in some respects, but hopefully you will never be in the place where this young soul finds herself.
-
-
-
i agree so glad you wrote this.
-
-
*huggles*
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 11 of 11
