Fill the Bottle, Watch it Spill

February 17, 2008
By Carly Post, Santa Rosa, CA

Desperatly trying to the find the words to explain the destruction inside of me, I choked. Surley if I opened my mouth, debris from the wreck would trickle past my lips. I could write it down, except my hands are shaking, and grasping a pen seemed an impossible task. Where does that leave me now? When whats held within is looking for the exit, I restrict every doorway with an apology.

Outside of the flesh retaining the emotional inferno, people are trying to crack me open. They use encouraging words as if they were the passwords to open the vault. There is no password, no code or command. Otherwise, I would have opened myself up to escape the suffocating thoughts years ago.

Now I am attracting a crowd. They huddle around me, and watch my every move. The refuse to miss the moment I tear apart. I am never left alone.

The first thread of the flesh rips, and I quickly cover it with my hand before the bystanders realized what just happened. I feel the tear in the curve of my neck. I feel the contents of my memories spill out into my hand, and I press harder against them to silence their attentioning scream.

People who surround hear a muffled voice coming from deep within my throat, escaping through the slit my hands are grasping to close. The crowd is cheering, they want to hear my secret. But I'm afraid. My secret lies in the heart of the boy in the front row of the audience, painfully watching me cry. He knows. He knows why I hold it inside. It's a volcano erupting inside my chest. It will expose itself to the surface. I cant stop anything.

"I love him!" I cry out, collpasing to my knees, letting go of the gash in my throat.
In that moment, one spot in the front row is empty as I watch him walk away ashamed.

I'm curled into myself, sitting on my knees with my head bent low. The crowed is silent, still circled around me , trying to grasp the words that flew out of my mouth. I realize he is still walking away. I push myself off the gravel pavement and stand. Faces surround, eyes locked on me. They are just as guilty as he is. They tormented me just as badly.

I shove my way through the guilt ridden faces untill I've made my way past the scene of the crime. "Which direction?" I wonder frantically. I head forward, the tear from my neck begins to rip wider, longer. I stop to look at my chest. A gash is spreading down the middle of my body. I am being torn in half. Now I am in a race to find him before there are two halves of me.

I'm running faster than before. Faster than my lungs can handle. But I pant harder untill my throat is rubbed raw. I look down. The tear is at my heart. Broken ends of skin moves along with the beating vibrance of my heart. I look up, expecting an empty street. Expecting this to be the place I die.

He stands infront of me. He must have seen me as I was examining the rip. But he does not say a word. He traces the outline of the tear with his finger, being careful not to press too deep. Still, his light touch felt laced with salt, burning through the wound and setting my heart on fire.

Just as quickly as he came, he walked away, fists clenched and head low. As he storms his way down the sidewalk, the promise that he swore to me years ago; "I will never hurt you", rings loudly in his head.

But here I am. Standing alone. A strong breeze shifts through me, pulling the rip straight to the bottom. Suddenly, there are two of me. A left and a right. Two halfs. The truth comes, hammering through a wall of shock, and I see clearly.

He tore me in half.

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