Left Over
remembering at 6:01 p.m. on 2003-07-24
What few things I know about starvation, come from the starvation of my mind, and its slow neglect.
Sixteen and hanging out the window sill of my best-friend's bedroom window, which looks out upon the busy housing street. I watch the evening sky's palette of oranges, violets and pinks as the sun dips lower and lower over the rooftops of the sandy colored houses.
A cigarette in my hand, I close my eyes and rest my head against the sill, warm tones of her music vibrating my ear drums into a state of lucidity.
The exhilarated chatter between her and our other friend, who has come to spend the night as well, is muted behind the angst ridden lyrics.
Trish calls me back down, and I grind my cigarette butt against the house and toss it into the bushes below. Curling up on her dainty, floral daybed, I reacquaint myself with their conversation.
Amy holds the small metallic pink pipe in her hand, lifting the lighter to the enlarged bowl and laughs as Trish tells her about something or another. I lay down, dangling my arm beside them and smile sleepily.
One...two...four...hits later and I am laying beside them on the floor. My eyes watery and dazed as I stare at the pattern of the ceiling above me. I feel small and secluded.
Sedated, womb-like as I crawl into the darkness around me.
At some point they leave me, off to watch Trish's brothers play their video games.
But I am still here...
My eyes wide open, but unaware. I am lost against the scatter of pictures that play over and over in my mind. Images that swell to the surface, then pull away again, pushing me further and further away from the platform of reality.
I am suddenly caught by the image of my Uncle I rarely see anymore.
Standing in front of his open linen closet...he hands me one of two identical toys.
I can't be more than 5.
"This one is for you, and that one is for your sister. It's a secret."
I stare at the cheap plastic, and choke on my own fear. He moves the other, intended for my sister, back behind the towels.
I want to die.
Trish is standing over me, but I can't see her through the warm flood of tears. She's staring at me puzzled.
I hide in the bathroom against the cool, tile floor. Wondering where it is, I am trying to escape to.
Wondering if there ever really was, a place to hide.
never was � never will be
