The Borders of Death-Day 1-More Like This
I sat on the couch. It was quiet now. No constant noise of pointless conversations, or the TV whose volume was way too high.
I wiped the substance from my hands onto the cushions and stood, slowly making my way towards the mirror at the end of the hallway. I stared at myself for a long amount of time, studying the harsh expression on my face and my tangled hair messy as always, and even my clothes, which had a few rips and stains in them.
I sat on the floor, watching my movements through the mirror. Damn, I was disgusting.
I laid back on the carpet, picking out little strands of fabric from it. I stared up at the ceiling, watching shapes form from the patterns. I could feel my head start to spin, but I ignored it, and closed my eyes instead. The ringing in my ears had calmed down by now, but it was still faint and noticeable.
And suddenly, I punch the wall beside me. And I punch it again. And again. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I doing to myself?
And I stop, recoilin