Broken Girl

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Awakened by a startling dream, I pounce up out of bed and look at the digital clock sitting on the bureau next to me. It’s only been seven minutes since I even fell asleep. It looks like it’s going to be another sleepless night.

Out of habit I reach for the old photograph of you and I, and I notice as I’m extending my arm that I have chipped some of my bright pink nail polish off. I grunt in annoyance, nothing ever goes my way.

In this picture, we look so happy. Young and in love. It was the night of the Homecoming Dance. We were dressed in matching pink, only because I insisted. Halloween decorations were in the background, and the October wind was casually making its way into the branches.

Before I know it, I feel a drop of moisture running down my cheek. I glance back at the photograph and look closely at you. I see your freshly cut blonde hair falling right above your baby blue eyes. I see your smile, and the I remember the way it would put me on edge. And although you couldn’t see it in the picture, those amazing hands of yours, with the extra short nails, you chewed on them when you were bored or nervous, like tonight.

Another tear, and then another. Like a faucet that just can’t be turned off these warm tears come streaming down my face like razor blades, slicing indentions into my cheeks, the same cheeks that once blushed at the just the sight of you.

One by one the tears fall down until there is an enormous puddle seeping through the front of your overly large t-shirt, the one I still wear to bed. I close my eyes only to find out that makes matters worse, as I can perfectly picture you in my mind.

I grip the edge of my comforter and bury my face into the soft, damp pillow and scream. I scream until I have no feeling left in my throat, until I can’t talk. The pain from that gets my mind off of you for a while.

I then realize I have to pant to catch my breath, I’m shaking all over and I’m feeling dizzy. It’s like the room is spinning. I lie on my back and watch the ceiling fan go around and around. My stomach turns flips. I jump up and run to the trash can, hovering over it I gag. Nothing comes up. This might have to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten in over three days.

Breaking a sweat, I look at the clock hanging on the wall and see that it’s almost time to get up for school already. It’s astounding how fast time flies with your mind is on something else. I drag myself to the comfort of my bedroom, lie down and instantly fall in a deep sleep, but not for long.

Thirty minutes later I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. I see flushed cheeks, swollen eyes, and an empty smile. When I look harder, I see the face of a girl he use to love. A broken girl, staring back at me.

A warm shower is the best place to explode in the mornings, for when you cry in there, no one sees your tears, and if they do, they mistake them for water. After I’ve had a small fit in there, I step out onto the soft purple rug and quickly get dressed. I paint my face with makeup; it’s a mask to cover up the remains of the night before. I do a half smile at myself in the mirror and tiredly walk out, ready to go to school, and dreading the night to come.





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