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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1095570-Never-There
by Ilyena
Rated: E · Chapter · Biographical · #1095570
This is the opeing chapter to a book i was thinking of writing.
Late at night I am sitting here and what if I wasn’t sitting here?

The hand was cut in half and sewn together with a thick black thread. Each stitch had been carefully sewn into 15 bold lines. Blood stained the line of where a blade or some sort of sharpened object had slit and sliced the skin

I hate myself. I hate the way when I look in the mirror it isn’t me that stares back. It isn’t me that blinks those eyes or sends those muscles signals from the brain. I can sit on my own and its me. I don’t see my reflection. But what is a reflection? A reflection is a image of an object. I’m just an object. But how can objects create a spark that trigger one man to jump and another to watch? So if we all work the same how come we act different?

The darkened bloodstain had dribbled down the arm and there where sharp stains of life’s water marking the bed. Blood. Its life’s true ink. Beneath the stitches and inside the darkened trench where small razor blades. Tiny skin cutters embedded and sleeping in the skin like people sleep in their beds. The blood was clotting and making a clear barrier closing the blades inside the skin. She lay on her bed with her arm resting peacefully on the side of the bed the other hand resting over a page drawing the images that flooded into her head. Silence washed the room.

If I think so different am I different. But do other people think different. If everyone is born to take the same paths where do people go wrong? Are you born with wrongness? Stupid wrongness. Another fault in the way nature seams to fail me.

She sat up glanced at her hand and smiled and pushed slightly on the stitches and was pleased to feel the blades still pushing against her skin. Her hair was down to her shoulder blades and curly like the waves on the sea. In her eyes where a deep water of green with brown trying to grapple the taints of lime.


I learnt to love to learn to hate those who loved me. I hated those who loved me as they made me weaker then I could ever be. I learnt more than expected and yet I still expected to learn more. Keep on learning to make sure that, I am smart, I am cleverer than those who I love the hate to learn to love. Love is stronger they say but love doesn’t kill but save. Anyone can love like I do but none can hate like me. None else can think this pure love of hatred like I do. So if I love hate so much how come I love also? You have to have both sides to see the clearer picture like I do. I hate to the extreme and love to the other. Yes I would die for love but kill for hate. So I see both sides.
© Copyright 2006 Ilyena (nena at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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