Thursday, January 21, 2010

Almost Friday

It's been a long, ugly week, and my brain is dead. I thought about trying to put together something that would be pity and profound, but failed spectacularly.

So I'll leave you with this snippet instead.
Sunshine streaming through the window coverings and the clock on the bedside table told her that it was mid morning. She was standing in the bedroom, pale and ill, arms wrapped tightly around her midsection and rocking.

Her head hurt from falling in the shower earlier that morning. Or maybe it was from something else; lack of food, lack of sleep, lack of sanity. She wasn’t quite sure and couldn’t quite remember. Suddenly she felt lost, threatened, vulnerable and powerless.

Her ears hurt from all the words. Words that people thought she didn’t take seriously. Words that they thought she didn’t understand.

Words that John didn’t speak.

She was aware of it all. So very helplessly aware of the fact that she couldn’t do or say anything to fix anything. She hated that feeling. That knowledge.

So she stayed silent.

Her mouth hurt from speaking. From trying to explain to people. To John. Her mouth hurt from trying to talk because she knew they wouldn’t listen.

Yet when they asked, she spoke. John didn’t ask anymore.

Her legs hurt from running. Running away from her life. Running away from everyone. And then from trying to run back. She’d run from questions, skirted issues, and shut everyone off. And then she tried to run toward something.

But her legs had grown tired and she seemed to keep running into dizzy oblivion.

Her body hurt from the truth, the truth that this place was not for her. That she had done nothing but make more mistakes, and that she had tried everything she could think of.

And that all of this was nothing.

That was the only truth she knew anymore. That this had been her apology and that it had been an apology unheard.

She realized suddenly that she was shaking, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms briskly. They were leaving today, she comforted herself.

She was going home.


  1. Nice snippet, as always, SJ. You captured the desolation of the moment wonderfully, yet there is still that underlying tinge of hope. And the last four words vibrate it all: She was going home.

    Hope the week finishes up OK and the weekend makes up for the mud.

  2. Your writing is so powerful. Everytime I read it, it just blows me away. I love the way you say so much in so few words, you cut right to the meat, the bone, the blood, and it's all there, the helplessness, the torment, the agony, and then BLAM, the hope. Amazing.

  3. Hey, CW.

    Thanks. I really like those last four words as well. It really does sum it all up for her.

    I hope your weekend goes well for you, too. :)

    Hi, PW.

    Thank you for those really kind words.

    I'm a big fan of cutting the verbiage. The trick is not to cut too much and I am thrilled when someone thinks I came even close to getting it right.

    Maybe I'll pull out an old snipptet of mine and we can look at how it used to be. :)

  4. These snippets of yours are habit-forming…but I'm not complaining. Not at all.
    (old, new...just keep them coming! :D )

    I liked the contrast between the outward deluge of words and the inner deafening silence. Between the hurt and the helplessness that can't find a release in words (we know they are not her favorite medium of expression) and the need to *do* something crushed under the overwhelming feeling of helplessness and futility.

    that this had been her apology and that it had been an apology unheard
    So much, so many layers and feelings in just a handful of words. Perfect.

    Thank you.

  5. Hee!

    Old, new, it's all good. I'm easy. :)

    That contrast is something I find fascinating and love exploring. It's all a dichotomy and it's all about balance.

    And thank you for picking up on that line. I love it and it's the kind of thing I look at and wonder who wrote that?

    Because it couldn't have been me. :)

  6. I look at and wonder who wrote that?
    Because it couldn't have been me.

    Ok, one blunt object coming up. I will need it to *drive* my point home. :P

    Or to quote a renowned philosopher "What's the matter with you people?!"