A Pitiful Addiction

August 31, 2011
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The thoughts whizz through her mind like frantically buzzing bees. They fly around in annoyance to her, but also create a sudden and intense fear. I only can see the emotion as it pours through her eyes as she realizes the inevitable; being stung. At least once, maybe more, depending on how long it takes to calm the yellow jacket-thoughts. Each is patterned in its own unique black and yellow stripes with a just as distinctive harsh whisper. I know what each are buzzing into her ears. I can hear their words of disgust. The one in front, the leader, with his eerily searing eyes, is ready to go in for the attack, its irrational punishment. It’s whispering in a rough bass, “Look what you’ve done. Went and ruined something else.” Her eyes widen in recognition of the guilt. All the stupid girl did was let her irritability and anger explode from the prison she had locked them in. It turned into a lot of yelling, fighting, and regret, the disappointing of another who is just trying to love her. This winged created with its prominent weapon is searching to let her feel the pain for what she’s done. And he knew just what to say. I watch as she shakes her head, pushing fallen hair back and I see the few leaked tears as they make their slow decent down a shaking cheek, making it’s known and familiar path. The leader is getting closer.
What does one do as they sit and watch someone’s thoughts slowly destroy them from the inside? Well, though I know it’s wrong, I sit back and watch it happen. This pretty girl with the long face and once lively but now sunken eyes is the farthest thing from my grasp, a mere image to me. This can’t be reality. In reality she’s right there, I feel her movements. I don’t even know who this girl is. I mean, I used to, but something from inside her soul came out and sucked her away. It was something from the deepest pits of h*ll one would ever know. It was a dark shadow that made a slow trek from the inside to the out, taking everything with it that it so desired. I had watched it steal this bright girl and turn her into a hollow shell. And yet, I did nothing.
Crystal clear mahogany eyes begin to cloud and widen again as the sneer of the psychopathic leader gets louder. “You lousy excuse of a life, what did you do? You need to be punished.” And with this all other yellow and black patterns fly away, it’s just the leader. There goes the one that was telling her she wasn’t pretty enough, the one saying she had no friends. The one who was trying to convince her that she would never feel like she’s really living again, they are all gone. But, they’d be back some other time. The nest would be shaken again, releasing the angry bees. They won’t be leaving their mark today.
What am I doing? I know this is wrong. This can be turned around. This isn’t the way it needs to be, but I just let it all happen. I can’t really see the better way anymore. I was letting this happen; maybe punishment would teach her how to act next time, show her she needs to step up and stop being worthless.
She tries to fight back with the bee, maybe just trying to convince herself that it wasn’t all her fault. There can’t be a war with only one side fighting; that would just be ruthless destruction. And with a wicked laugh from the leader, another widening of lightless eyes occurs. And she seems to think she had been the only one guilty, she was destroying innocence and love around her. His maniacal laugh echoes through her head as she shakes it again, gripping each side of her face to try to get him out. The shaking only makes him angrier; he is waiting impatiently for something to happen; for the punishment to be committed.
I grimace and clench my mouth and eyes as she reaches for the razor placed ever so ominously next to her. Another mad and terrifying laugh from the bee as he buzzes away to the back of her mind; waiting to watch what happens next. It’s too late for questioning this. It’s already happened too many times to begin to stop. What a pitiful addiction. The pain inside needs to be felt with pain on the outside; the broken and torn soul in a once innocent girl needs to be shown on the surface. This has to teach her the lesson. At least, that’s all she has in the front of her mind anymore. The back of my mind is screaming. Stop it! We don’t need this! There’s light at the end of tunnel; just pull your head up and find it. But, it drops lower and I don’t see her anymore.
She guides a trembling, razor-filled hand to her now exposed thigh, the perfect hiding place for a self-punishment. I feel all at once nauseous as I see the scars. I see them all clearly now, the one to remind her that she got a D on a test, the one to help her remember the break-up she was responsible in every way for, the one that was executed just to have some kind of feeling at all. They burn into my mind, to be there forever.
I glance up at the mirror that is in front of me and see her and her now flowing river of tears. I watch as a strand of auburn locks is tucked behind an ear. I look back down to the thigh, waiting for the next wound to make its reminder. As the razor blade begins its penetrating glide against skin, I release a sigh in the wake of destruction and desire. I hear his laugh as the bee fades away, back to the nest to return one day. I glance up once more to the view of a new current of tears as they release themselves down a face to a quivering lip. I look away from the mirror long enough to see the puddle of red secrets as it slowly drips and pools into a gathering of hate.
What have I become?

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