Sepia

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The life of a mentally ill college student told through the imagery of colors.

Submitted: March 28, 2015

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Submitted: March 28, 2015

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She kept the secret again.  One bottle was emptied at a time and tossed into a drawer full of blank paper and untouched pens.  She paused before closing.  It acted as her monthly reminder of everything she left behind when she boarded a high speed train away heading from her own mind. 

She packed her suitcase and everything went sepia.  She returned to familiar places in an unfamiliar state of mind.  She saw familiar faces in an unfamiliar way.  Smiles felt fake and moments passed out of order.  She felt confused.

She passively watched each fake conversation and fake embrace.  Secretly, she wished they were directed at her.  She laid on the floor of the bedroom and let it wrap her in its lack of color.

In a pause, she grabbed at a cloud to place a rainbow on her skin and a crystal around her neck.  Her eyes grew two sizes as her mind expanded beyond the tips of the universe. 

All she could do was edit.  The energy made her bones vibrate, but there were no sparks... She waited for the sparks.  Any form of creation was put on hold as she was reminded that painful fires could be started without matches.

Everything morphed into comic stance.  She eyes could have fallen out and the Cheshire Cat melted onto her face.  She was compared to the joker. Purple was always her favorite color.

Her fingers painted ink blotches into her own life and called it art.  She told herself that no one else could see it.  She had forgotten about the bottle completely.  

The withdrawal made the world shift to black and white.  She remembered that this is who she really was.  The ink blots covered her motivation to ever leave her bed.  When she did, she paused before ever leaving a room.  The fear of loneliness consumed her.

Her features felt so small she thought she was going to disappear.  With white knuckles she gripped her film noir to remind herself that she was still here.  At least a nightmare was something.

The paper stayed blank although the pill bottles stayed full.  No one wanted to help although the they had their opinions.  She still held her breath expecting a response.  Everything around her turned blue. 


© Copyright 2019 Katya Yermakova . All rights reserved.

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