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Literature by crashmypartyhard

Stories by XEOCX13

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Submitted on
January 18, 2013
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3.1 KB


29 (who?)
Hear me read it

She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the floor. Within her scope of vision there were many things she could look at. Many things to think about and process. There was a slate blouse that had wilted at the bottom of her bed, or her pale foot placed beside it. The foot looked unnatural there, with no pressure to grip it to the ground it looked unbelonging, like a cast aside prop. Yet she did not look, or think, or notice.

She just stared, blindly, for an hour, her thoughts were obnoxious and churned the paltry paste of self-disgust in her heart muscle, but they were relatively quiet as she repeated over and over in the forefront of her subconscious "Time to get up."

Time to get up. It was time to get up. It was time to get up and get on with her life. It was time to get a life. It was time. It was time to get up.

Unprovoked tears swelled and scattered loosely amid this trail of thought. She kept going, over and over, It Is Time To Get Up. Get out of bed.

Even breaking the day down into the atomic bones of it, she could not get up. She could not do the simple task of standing up. She allowed herself to temporarily forget that after she stood up she would then have to get dressed, and eat something, or shower, or brush her hair. She allowed the moment she was trying to achieve to exist singularly. It is time to Get Up.

Still she could not. The sense of failure and self loathing grew. STAND UP! All it is is standing, you have done it a million times; stand UP. Her heartbeat slowed until it was a dull echo of the mantra, stand up.

You are being ridiculous. Stand up. Get up. It's time to get up. Get up. Stand up. Do something. Put a sock on. One sock. It's right in front of you. Just pick it up. You wouldn't even have to stand up to reach it. Lean forward and pick up the sock. Just pick it up and worry about putting it on the foot later. Just lean forward.

A burst of desperation exploded in her chest and she snatched at the sock and then, incited by the sudden movement, began to sob again. Crying harder until she began to cough and retch with the misery clogging her throat. She could see the tissues on her desk, a meter away, but instead put her head down and coughed into the sock. Spiraling into despair, the bleak and hopeless place where she knew she belonged.

She coughed, as if her lungs were tripping over her tears. Each cough a bark of anguish that she was trying not to put into words. She tried to swallow the coughs, the tears and the words, and cried harder still until she drew the sock away and saw blood. She had spiraled in mood to the point of hysteria. The blood shocked her, a spiteful blow to the face. She withdrew to broken whimpers of her pain and slowly withdrew her legs until her feet were on the edge of the mattress, and then let herself lay back down, weakly pulling the quilt over her head. She shivered her way to sleep.
I wrote this when I realised it had taken me three hours to get dressed today. The sock thing isn't true, nor is the blood, but in the past I have cried so much that I've coughed up blood.

I don't know what will happen when I post this here. Perhaps people will be unkind or not understand. Mental illness is a hard thing to understand, I find it hard enough myself. I guess we will see.
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Emmaessence Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
From reading and as a fellow writer I see this as a strong marriage between prose and poetry that gets that method right while telling a good story that is engrossing and shows a solid grasp of the English language and way with words. I like this one.
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2013
Blushes, thank you so much! You are too kind! This is a very personal story and people have been really supportive of it. I'm glad I posted it. I am thrilled you said engrossing because the plot is very simple, I was worried it wasn't ''enough'' to express the feelings behind that kind of day
RainbowKitty13 Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
wow :O so awesome :D and sad :(
it´s so wonderful :heart:
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2013
Thank you ! Luckily not every day is like this.
RainbowKitty13 Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
your welcome :)
Story-of-a-Mind Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I feel I can kind of relate to this. I had some days where it was hard getting up and I wished I had some kind of sickness so I wouldn't have to. After all my bed has always been kind of my refuge to me. Those bad days of mine where probably the faintest and most silent echo of yours. But I feel if you multiplied the sadness and the problems, I can begin to understand this impossibility to get up you described here.

So... :tighthug:
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2013
:tighthug: I strongly do not believe in comparing pain between people. So I am sorry for your sad days and thank you for being sorry for mine <3
Zevais Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2013  Hobbyist
My fiance won't be here most of the day. It is 2 pm, and I still just in my boxers. I am just sitting here, and my music isn't helping my mood enough today... and I have things I need to get done. I don't know if I relate to this. You seem to have a lot of support on here at least; however, even I know that support in real life always feels more significant. You deserve as much support as you need. You'll get through this; there is always another better day.
Aurora9912 Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Sometimes there is NOT always another better day. I felt myself wanting to lash out and reply in anger. But I realize you were only trying to help.
AJ: I feel like I'm just echoing everyone else, but I feel your pain. Thank God I've never had it that bad, and may He be with you when things are tough.

Beautifully written. :)
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