a teary eyed confession.

“she was hanged ‘til blood poured from her nose and ears”

And she couldn’t get this image out of her head. On the metro, exulting in her anonymity she closed her eyes trying to picture two four red rivers emanating from her head: two down the side of her face and two cutting through the middle.

Blood for her was her only companion, her ideal companion. Enigmatic and silent, never stopping, ever present. Indispensable.

People think she’s crazy, think she talks to herself in public, but she’s only continuing connections with the only other entity in the cosmos that she can rely on.

A hazy nightclub- all the people she thought she knew swayed in concentric circles, just avoiding her orbit.

Stood next to the bar, she could almost see the pink wristbands that excluded her so perfectly.
All her life she lived with a fear of being excluded. And so she’d refuse to follow, fearing the ultimate exclusion that she knew was coming

She buried her nose in her drink
Why were liquids were so much more real than people?

All she was looking for was the consistently inconsistent

Surrounded by outlines that grew hazier and hazier her eyes started to well up

She tried to blink them away
It didn’t work.

And so, as tears streamed down her face her mind was absolutely calm.
Behind hiccoughs and frenzied entreaties to be dropped home she viewed the world dispassionately, hovering over the throngs of people, taking in the atmosphere and revelling in every sense experience: smells and colours, smoke that swayed with the music

In the car ride home all could do was shake her head persistently
No I’m not sad

Walking into her kitchen she knew what had to be done

How long can you ignore your pulse throbbing?

Knives don’t work, a broken bangle will do, always does

(Spill your blood to stop the tears)

She smiled understandingly; she understood her need to disguise the mundanely necessary as a dramatic Event; to view this as the Opus of her lifetime, if you must.