more shit from the deep and scary depths of my fucked up mind
It was dark out.
Not surprising. It's ten o'clock on a particularly cold and wet October night.
And again, not suprising, Neve had shut herself away in her room.
She crossed the length of the room, from the window to her stereo, turned around, and did exactly the same thing a second later, continuing to do so until the song ended. Like most obsessive compulsives, she had a particular pattern, and at times of stress (take now for example) would not rest until those patterns had been completed to her satisfaction. One mistake, and she would start all over again. Rewind the song, start facing away from her stereo, and walk to her window, taking 23 steps. If she'd done it right, she would be facing her stereo once more by the time the last notes on this particular song ended. The next song she chose, she had to be quicker with. Taking 23 steps, still, but walking slightly faster, against the tempo of the song.
Her roommates, Rachel, Fran and Dusty all had similar problems. A household full of
obsessive compulsive, depressed - manically or otherwise, self-harming, suicidal insomniacs. Persuaded (read: threatened) by her parents to move into the halfway house (or else) after a spell in some mental hospital this side of Mississagua. But today, Rachel was out, Fran was sleeping, and although Dusty was in the house, she had no idea where he was. And although today for the most part had been a bad day, like most of her past, she didnt want to discuss it.
There had been one thing, such a simple little thing that had prevented her from
following another one of her patterns today, and she was about to savor it. Cutting was not a day to day activity for Neve, and although today would have been a prime example of what it takes to make her do it, she decided to forgo the pain, although now, to her, it was almost nonexistant, the mess, and the explanation afterward. As she retrieved the package from the record store, Neve allowed herself a tiny smile. She had been waiting a long time for this.
Holding her breath as she removed the cd from the bag, Neve ran her finger tips over the case, admiring the cover art, removing the wrapper, slowly, anticipating the familiar voice, and the words that always cut into her so deeply. Letting her breath out slowly, she opened the cd drawer. Hand raised, to place her new reasure in it, she hesitated slightly.
{am i allowed to do this? how can i justify falling apart [you do, you know you
always do] when this had nothing to do with me?}
Neve bit her lip and considered this.
{no, i can. surely it cant just be me he gets to}
She placed the cd in the drawer quickly, before she changed her mind again, and scrabbled for the remote.
She had purchased the book a few weeks beforehand, reading it cover to cover to try and get inside of the music she didnt yet possess, and was not surprised to hear the
spoken tracks. And, as predicted, was in tears already, only part way through the fourth track.
She sat, listening intently, completely in a world of her own until she realised that the intro to this track sounded so different. Noting the track number, Neve referred to the cd case, and couldnt hide her disappointment to find it was in fact the final song. But then she heard the words,and all of a sudden, it didnt matter.
Upon its finish, she skipped it back and listened to it again, and again, only stopping to check the title of the song.
{oh but it could be}
Neve continued to play the song nonstop, but for how long, she wasnt quite sure. In fact, the only reason she turned it off that night was because she heard a knock at
her bedroom door.
Not surprising. It's ten o'clock on a particularly cold and wet October night.
And again, not suprising, Neve had shut herself away in her room.
She crossed the length of the room, from the window to her stereo, turned around, and did exactly the same thing a second later, continuing to do so until the song ended. Like most obsessive compulsives, she had a particular pattern, and at times of stress (take now for example) would not rest until those patterns had been completed to her satisfaction. One mistake, and she would start all over again. Rewind the song, start facing away from her stereo, and walk to her window, taking 23 steps. If she'd done it right, she would be facing her stereo once more by the time the last notes on this particular song ended. The next song she chose, she had to be quicker with. Taking 23 steps, still, but walking slightly faster, against the tempo of the song.
Her roommates, Rachel, Fran and Dusty all had similar problems. A household full of
obsessive compulsive, depressed - manically or otherwise, self-harming, suicidal insomniacs. Persuaded (read: threatened) by her parents to move into the halfway house (or else) after a spell in some mental hospital this side of Mississagua. But today, Rachel was out, Fran was sleeping, and although Dusty was in the house, she had no idea where he was. And although today for the most part had been a bad day, like most of her past, she didnt want to discuss it.
There had been one thing, such a simple little thing that had prevented her from
following another one of her patterns today, and she was about to savor it. Cutting was not a day to day activity for Neve, and although today would have been a prime example of what it takes to make her do it, she decided to forgo the pain, although now, to her, it was almost nonexistant, the mess, and the explanation afterward. As she retrieved the package from the record store, Neve allowed herself a tiny smile. She had been waiting a long time for this.
Holding her breath as she removed the cd from the bag, Neve ran her finger tips over the case, admiring the cover art, removing the wrapper, slowly, anticipating the familiar voice, and the words that always cut into her so deeply. Letting her breath out slowly, she opened the cd drawer. Hand raised, to place her new reasure in it, she hesitated slightly.
{am i allowed to do this? how can i justify falling apart [you do, you know you
always do] when this had nothing to do with me?}
Neve bit her lip and considered this.
{no, i can. surely it cant just be me he gets to}
She placed the cd in the drawer quickly, before she changed her mind again, and scrabbled for the remote.
She had purchased the book a few weeks beforehand, reading it cover to cover to try and get inside of the music she didnt yet possess, and was not surprised to hear the
spoken tracks. And, as predicted, was in tears already, only part way through the fourth track.
She sat, listening intently, completely in a world of her own until she realised that the intro to this track sounded so different. Noting the track number, Neve referred to the cd case, and couldnt hide her disappointment to find it was in fact the final song. But then she heard the words,and all of a sudden, it didnt matter.
Upon its finish, she skipped it back and listened to it again, and again, only stopping to check the title of the song.
{oh but it could be}
Neve continued to play the song nonstop, but for how long, she wasnt quite sure. In fact, the only reason she turned it off that night was because she heard a knock at
her bedroom door.