Drowning My Sorrows

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The water was cold at first. It came out slow, but then faster, and faster. I stepped into the tub, fully clothed in sheets of black. The tattoos on my stomach faded, until the colors twirled around, riding the small waves that my subtle movements had fashioned. I was at peace.
 
 My ears went first; and then my cheeks. The water flooded my flat, imperfect, face, and I smiled. Just before my eyes were consumed by the unforgiving water, I looked over at the toilet, to the half- empty bottle of Jack, and then down to the once white, and now brown, linoleum floor.
 
Under the water, I was finally alone. Nobody could hear my screams, or see the scars. Nobody could hurt me, like the world had always seemed to want to do. I was a mistake of birth, a victim of society, nothing more than a corrupted waste of life.
 
And now I've come to learn that I'm not the only one. Not the only girl, in the only small town, who swore she'd never love. Whose heart was guarded by black, withered leaves of ivy, and thorns. And does the world need any more?
 
The water was cold at first, but now my body is numb. I sank to the bottom, and rid the world of my relentless spirit. Life had nothing left to give me, so I drowned my sorrows in the tub.





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