Her favorite color was purple so she wore purple. It was a lovely gown. It was a reminiscence of something from a Viennese
Ball seen from a picture book. It
was formal, but simple and elegant. She
was not one for too many frills. She
believed in a simple and straight forward design. She put on matching opera-length gloves and
pulled them past her elbows as far as they went. She wanted to wear rings, but that was okay,
the dress worked better without. She
usually wore too many rings anyway. She donned
a choker necklace. There were beaded sapphire
stones with an amethyst pendant that hung down from the front. It was beautiful and she wanted to feel
beautiful.
She brushed her hair straight, taking out any knots and twists. There were lovely light grey and white streaks that had begun to show that hadn’t been there even a month before. She didn’t mind that though. She felt it was a sign of maturity. Aging had never worried her. She was old even when she was young, always told she had wisdom beyond her years and a very old soul.
Wisdom beyond your years and old souls didn’t get you very much except alienation from your peers and a lack of understanding from the immature.
She turned to the mirror and enjoyed her own gaze. God, if she could have married herself, she would have. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile. She knew something others didn’t. She had power. She was power. In that secret there was control and destiny and oblivion. She was a lord of all creation and could blink out all of existence with but a thought.
That was a fun thought. That was a fun wish.
She closed her eyes and thought long and hard about the future and about her past. There were so many things that could have been. What could be done now? Time ticks and no one has the ability to take away the pain and make something different than it is.
She was lonely. So very lonely indeed. Her eyes showed sorrow. It was a gorgeous intensity that made her pitiable but all the more attractive for it. She wished more people saw it that way. Mostly they just assumed she was uninterested in life or uninspired by them. That might have been true. Not in an intentional cruel way. She was only critical because she wanted so much more out of things. Moments never felt real. There was never intensity to life. She wished she could feel something more. But mostly things were just ordinary and monotonous. That was no one’s fault and she knew it. But she was disinterested in the mundane day to day method by which most people made their way through this life.
She whispered to herself often, a sort of half prayer, half incantation. I will see you in the night. I will see you in my morning wake and in my evening dreams. I will see you soon and I will see you always.
She didn’t know who she spoke to, but she wished he heard her. He, if there really were a he, had not yet reacted.
The razor blade didn’t hurt like she expected. It hurt. Plenty. Just not like she thought it would. Tears rolled down her face and she choked up a sobbing scream. She wondered how much blood there would be and if she would last long enough to see it all. The arms fell to her sides and the pools of blood formed around her. She was a well dressed angel of misery. No one would ever match her beauty in that moment right then. No one would ever see her like she was at that time. No one would ever see her again.
The blood stained the dress, but the dress was beautiful.
She brushed her hair straight, taking out any knots and twists. There were lovely light grey and white streaks that had begun to show that hadn’t been there even a month before. She didn’t mind that though. She felt it was a sign of maturity. Aging had never worried her. She was old even when she was young, always told she had wisdom beyond her years and a very old soul.
Wisdom beyond your years and old souls didn’t get you very much except alienation from your peers and a lack of understanding from the immature.
She turned to the mirror and enjoyed her own gaze. God, if she could have married herself, she would have. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile. She knew something others didn’t. She had power. She was power. In that secret there was control and destiny and oblivion. She was a lord of all creation and could blink out all of existence with but a thought.
That was a fun thought. That was a fun wish.
She closed her eyes and thought long and hard about the future and about her past. There were so many things that could have been. What could be done now? Time ticks and no one has the ability to take away the pain and make something different than it is.
She was lonely. So very lonely indeed. Her eyes showed sorrow. It was a gorgeous intensity that made her pitiable but all the more attractive for it. She wished more people saw it that way. Mostly they just assumed she was uninterested in life or uninspired by them. That might have been true. Not in an intentional cruel way. She was only critical because she wanted so much more out of things. Moments never felt real. There was never intensity to life. She wished she could feel something more. But mostly things were just ordinary and monotonous. That was no one’s fault and she knew it. But she was disinterested in the mundane day to day method by which most people made their way through this life.
She whispered to herself often, a sort of half prayer, half incantation. I will see you in the night. I will see you in my morning wake and in my evening dreams. I will see you soon and I will see you always.
She didn’t know who she spoke to, but she wished he heard her. He, if there really were a he, had not yet reacted.
The razor blade didn’t hurt like she expected. It hurt. Plenty. Just not like she thought it would. Tears rolled down her face and she choked up a sobbing scream. She wondered how much blood there would be and if she would last long enough to see it all. The arms fell to her sides and the pools of blood formed around her. She was a well dressed angel of misery. No one would ever match her beauty in that moment right then. No one would ever see her like she was at that time. No one would ever see her again.
The blood stained the dress, but the dress was beautiful.
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