deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rhythms
The bottle is smooth beneath my fingertips. I turn it over on my hand, once… twice… considering. The contents of the bottle clank against the plastic walls surrounding them. The sound it makes intrigues me, so I turn it over again, and again. The repeating noise becomes rhythmic. This matches, I realize, the rhythm of my shallow breathing. It is the rhythm of my very essence.
Twenty-three small, pink pills are inside this bottle. I know because I counted them, again and again. This is nothing new to me; I got these off a friend a while ago.
“Weight-loss pills are totally safe,” she assured me.
And because I’d have done just about anything to be beautiful, I took them.
I stand up from my perch on the side of the bathtub. For a moment, the white room around me starts to spin, and my head swirls. I lurch forward and grab onto the edge of the sink to steady myself. This happens a lot; the dizzy spells. I must have stood up too quickly. Once it’s passed, I raise my head to look in the mirror in front of me. I don’t recognize the girl looking back at me. Her eyes are sunken and lifeless, her mouth taught, her cheeks hollow. Her hair is flat. She is, however, thin, her bones almost poking out through paper-thin skin. Skinny, yes. But am I beautiful?
It all started with the way he looked at her. The girl so stunning, she could be on the cover of any magazine. How I wanted him to look at me like that. I wanted that so badly, I would have done almost anything. But was it enough?
I pour the pills into the palm of my frail hand. With shaking fingers, I turn the handle on the tap and pour a glass of water for myself. I place one of the pills on the tip of my tongue. A sip of water, and then… I swallow, and a lump forms in my throat. Same thing happens once more. Pill, water, swallow. And again. The movements become rhythmic. Rhythmic like the sound of water dripping from the faucet, and like the wild pounding of my heart. The rhythms speak to me.
Just one more pound.
Swallow.
Just a little bit more.
Drip.
He’ll have to notice me.
Thud.
Just a little bit more…
Twenty-three small, pink pills are inside this bottle. I know because I counted them, again and again. This is nothing new to me; I got these off a friend a while ago.
“Weight-loss pills are totally safe,” she assured me.
And because I’d have done just about anything to be beautiful, I took them.
I stand up from my perch on the side of the bathtub. For a moment, the white room around me starts to spin, and my head swirls. I lurch forward and grab onto the edge of the sink to steady myself. This happens a lot; the dizzy spells. I must have stood up too quickly. Once it’s passed, I raise my head to look in the mirror in front of me. I don’t recognize the girl looking back at me. Her eyes are sunken and lifeless, her mouth taught, her cheeks hollow. Her hair is flat. She is, however, thin, her bones almost poking out through paper-thin skin. Skinny, yes. But am I beautiful?
It all started with the way he looked at her. The girl so stunning, she could be on the cover of any magazine. How I wanted him to look at me like that. I wanted that so badly, I would have done almost anything. But was it enough?
I pour the pills into the palm of my frail hand. With shaking fingers, I turn the handle on the tap and pour a glass of water for myself. I place one of the pills on the tip of my tongue. A sip of water, and then… I swallow, and a lump forms in my throat. Same thing happens once more. Pill, water, swallow. And again. The movements become rhythmic. Rhythmic like the sound of water dripping from the faucet, and like the wild pounding of my heart. The rhythms speak to me.
Just one more pound.
Swallow.
Just a little bit more.
Drip.
He’ll have to notice me.
Thud.
Just a little bit more…
Published 27th Feb 2010
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7th Mar 2010 5:07am
Interesting style here. It was enjoyable and the openended-ness intrigued.
Anonymous
13th Mar 2010 7:40am
raw note, which is well written and painfully candid.
Well done
To be able to express yourself in such a beautiful way demonstrates more beauty than could every be 'supplied' by a mirror.
S
Well done
To be able to express yourself in such a beautiful way demonstrates more beauty than could every be 'supplied' by a mirror.
S
14th Mar 2010 11:01am
gave me goosebumps.. To think people believe beauty comes from how skinny you are - that's not beauty, it's unnatural.
This piece of writing is stunning and so very effective. I feel the pain of the persona as though it's my own, I even got a lump in my throat when she did.
A fantastic piece, full of endless agony.
This piece of writing is stunning and so very effective. I feel the pain of the persona as though it's my own, I even got a lump in my throat when she did.
A fantastic piece, full of endless agony.
