"Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame."
-Sir Thomas Wyatt
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Just a little something from forever ago.
I used group my life into two categories. Before the Initiation and after. I can still remember how satisfying the crack of bone was. The flashes of white that shocked my vision. A disgusting gurgle of spit as I lost control of my jaw. I had done it. All I needed was a visit from them at the hospital and I’d be in. My Mother screamed when she saw me, standing still in the garage, my mouth hanging open too much. “What did you do?” Her voice frantic as she noticed the hedge shears at my feet. I wanted to say ‘I broke my jaw, obviously’ but couldn’t, obviously.
“I’m calling 911. Stay where you are.” Yes, Mother. A whimper slipped from my throat. Pain was crackling with every movement, even the slightest ones. My Father was gagging in the doorway. I felt a shiver of laughter in my shoulders. He was always harping about self control. “Adrian!” And then I was falling. And then…it was dark.
“I’m gonna need ten milligrams of morphine. This kid’s definitely gonna want it.” I’m not a kid. We were moving. A young black man leaned over me, his eyes straying down to mine twice. His pupils were wide, pulse pounding in his neck. First time in an ambulance? Mine too. “Where’s the blood coming from?” His voice was shaking slightly. “Must be from when she fell, check for cuts.” He nodded, I felt hands brush past my clothing. I felt. Pain stabbed me hard, my immediate reaction was to yelp, scream, anything. Not a sound came out though. The vehicle rocked as it’s tires dipped into a pot hole. White hot burning shot through me. It felt like my face was being torn in half. Please, stop this. “She’s awake!” The tech noticed, finally. “Shiiiiit.” The pop of a needle breaking skin and I was at peace. Fading to sleep.
“I’m calling 911. Stay where you are.” Yes, Mother. A whimper slipped from my throat. Pain was crackling with every movement, even the slightest ones. My Father was gagging in the doorway. I felt a shiver of laughter in my shoulders. He was always harping about self control. “Adrian!” And then I was falling. And then…it was dark.
“I’m gonna need ten milligrams of morphine. This kid’s definitely gonna want it.” I’m not a kid. We were moving. A young black man leaned over me, his eyes straying down to mine twice. His pupils were wide, pulse pounding in his neck. First time in an ambulance? Mine too. “Where’s the blood coming from?” His voice was shaking slightly. “Must be from when she fell, check for cuts.” He nodded, I felt hands brush past my clothing. I felt. Pain stabbed me hard, my immediate reaction was to yelp, scream, anything. Not a sound came out though. The vehicle rocked as it’s tires dipped into a pot hole. White hot burning shot through me. It felt like my face was being torn in half. Please, stop this. “She’s awake!” The tech noticed, finally. “Shiiiiit.” The pop of a needle breaking skin and I was at peace. Fading to sleep.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I hate CP Chemistry.
I do this thing. It's kind of gross but it makes me feel better, apparently. Most of the time I'm not even aware that I'm doing it. I scratch my head. My parents called it "picking". Likening to picking your nose but it's not THAT bad. I don't know how it started. I haven't done it all summer and it started up again today. Blehhh.
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