My God Damn LifeMature

I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!

I will touch a hundred flowers, and not pick one.   

~Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Afternoon on a Hill"

Carmen dropped me off at the old run-down ballet studio.  It stood two stories tall and yet probably had more than two stories behind the place.

"See ya!" Carmen yelled out of the rolled down window of the PT Cruiser.

I waved a good-bye until she had turned down Minrow Street which lay right across from the old building.

Then I took out a new pack of cigarettes and placed one in my mouth.  I lit it and then blew out smoke.  I put the new pack and lighter into my purse.  Then I blew out smoke again. 

I shivered, suddenly a cold late winter wind blew up and down my spine and bare legs.  It was no wonder because I had on a skirt with flats.  

I stayed rooted to my spot for a couple moments while staring up at the brick building and inhaling tobacco.

Life had been pretty tough on me.

I then remembered the boxes littering the rooms in the building of all my stuff-clothes, books, jewelry,make-up-stuff like that. I was still in the unpacking stage of the move about five days into moving. 

I shook myself out of the daze I was in and rummaged through my purse for the keys.  Finally getting a hold of the keys, I unlocked the back door.

I shuffled into the old brick building.

The back door lead to a huge open room with mirrors and bars along both of the long walls. Windows lined the ceiling let natural light stream in, even though there was a big chandelier in the middle of the room that had a light switch.

I put my purse down while the cigarette was still in between my fingers.

I jerked at the motion of the smoke reflecting in the mirrors along both walls.

I looked in one of the mirrors with the cigarette in between my fingers.

I studied my features for a moment; my wild curls of light blond hair, my perewinkle-colored eyes dashed with dark dark makeup, my pale skin, the cigarette between my fingers...The make-up and cigarette seemed to dull my appearance.

I then had a flash of when I first took a puff.  I remembered it's weird, but cool feel.  I also remembered telling my self I wouldn't have another.  'Well look at yourself now...'

All those choices I made I strongly regretted and here I was and life sucked.

'I hate myself,' I thought, looking at my image in the mirrors.

I suddenly got very angry and stomped out the lit cigarette.  I wanted to smash the mirror and the girl in it.  I wanted to see her smashed up into tiny pieces so people could walk on her.  So she could feel the world under her weight.  

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the hammer.  It was one that had been sitting around the place when I had moved.

The firework went off and I grabbed it, smashing the reflection and the girl in it.  Anger and hate went into every blow!

The second, the third, the forth mirror.

By the fifth mirror, I paused, hacking and catching my breath.

'What am I doing?'

I looked more intently at the girl-the young women in the mirror.  I hated myself, but I was also scared-of the future.  No future could hold a girl like me in it.  I would end up just like the ballet studio-damaged and alone with no purpose-just collecting dust.

I felt the hammer slip from my sweaty hand and clang to the ground.  I felt myself clang to the ground as well, tears burning up my eyes.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' I thought.

"You're so much stupid shit!" I yelled. "Why the bloody hell are you even alive?!"

With every insult to myself more tears fell.

Soon, I had ran upstairs, slipped into the comfort of my bed-my peaceful sleeping mind- and cried myself to sleep.  That was the only escape.

The End

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