I Imagine Myself

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I imagine myself

Submitted: April 19, 2017

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Submitted: April 19, 2017

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I imagine myself becoming overgrown with vines. The thorns slowly pierce my skin as they suck the life out of me. My blood flows out of the holes bored into my skin. The vines grow longer and creep up the sides of my body. I am pulled to the ground. I am strapped down. I cannot move, I do not struggle. I scream at the top of my lounges, but not because I am scared but because I need to release my stress. I need my soul to be free before it is too late. I need to feel free one last time. I cry out my sins. I empty the bottle that has held my tears back in the past. I drain every last drop as the vines wrap around my chest squeezing out everything and everyone that has wronged me. One of the vines stabs a hole into my body, digging for my heart. I let it have my heart. I am not scared. I am not afraid. I am at peace. Relief comes over me as I breathe my last breath and sink into the earth.

I imagine myself drowning in the middle of lake. I put my hair up and push the boat of the sandy beach and into the water. I make my way in and paddle to the center of the lake. I look out to every side surrounding the lake. I look at the trees. I look at the sky, where there sun cannot be seen because there are too many clouds in the way. I know it is there because the light shines through in certain spots, hitting the water just right so it sparkles and smiles at me. Everything is calm. I put the paddles into the water and watch them slowly float away. I close my eyes and point my face towards the sky. I take a deep breath, smile and take down my hair. I stand up and remove the outer layer of my clothes. I take one last deep breath in and slowly release it. I dive into the water and let myself be consumed by my surroundings. I open my eyes under water and I watch the surface disappear as my vision becomes blurred and I am taken to the bottom.

I imagine myself lost in a city. I do not know how or why I am where I am. I find myself in an abandoned building. The walls are covered in artwork and desperate words of people looking for the truth. The building is trashed. There are signs of life in every room. Plants are growing through the broken windows, through the cracks in the floor. Blankets and clothes amongst the trash. I am not only physically lost, but emotionally. I travel deeper into the building and lose direction. I can no longer find my way out. I am being consumed by the building. It has grabbed my soul and takes me deeper into the secrets of the world that is ignored by society. I am stopped in my tracks as a figure turns a corner and starts to limp towards me. I am not scared. I am curious. What is this figures story? Light is shed on the figure as he passes a doorway to a light room. He is high on drugs. He is strung to thin and on his last struggle. As the distance between us closes, he mumbles something unintelligible. I stare calmly. I have no urge to do anything more. He is looking for drugs. He knows that I do not have any, but he looks scared. Angry scared. The kind where a normal person might act irrationally. He pulls out a knife and swings with his last bit of strength. He slice my throat. I fall to my knees as I become soaked in my own blood. My body is crying but my eyes are not. As my body hits the floor, the man in front of me collapses to the ground as well.

I imagine myselfwith a future. I imagine a child. She is seven. She Is laughing in the doorway. She was just dropped off by the school bus. The sun is bright and shines through the door right behind her. She calls out to me, “Mommy, I’m home!” I smile showing all my teeth, “Welcome home!” I hug her tightly. She leaves to go do her homework in the kitchen. I return to the task in front of my. I own a hostel. People are in and out all day. I am surrounded by caring people with plans to see the world. I have a husband that does everything to support me. Together we have four children. I stare at the pictures of my family on the wall. I have a family that needs me. I have children that need me and a husband that cares for me. He tells me he loves me everyday. We never go to bed angry. We fight, but at the end of the day we always lean on each other. I imagine myself in the same life. I am 100 years old. I have lived long enough to see my great grandchildren and even a great-great grandchild. It is the one year anniversary of my husband’s passing. As I go to bed that night, I feel my soul being lifted out. I do not wake up the next morning.

I imagine myself telling this story to many people. I imagine myself holding on to the last story. I want that outcome. It is the only one where my breath is taken away but is always brought back to me.  


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