I have this family history of diseased twenties that keep comming around the corner between recessive generations of disguised calm like Hailey's comet trailing arcoss the sky. My aunt died when she was twenty, found bleeding color into cold waters by the river bank. And my mother says she fears for me. Last September when i turned twenty, my mother cried her eyes out. She says i am starting to act like my aunt, relapsing into a familiar silence of twilight spaces between days.
I too feel something changing in me. at times i catch myself fantasizing sharp objects and blood. A small cut here and there, a single slash across the face, maybe a little deeper someday slashing the veins, just a little blood, and maybe a little more someday. I dream of needles and syringes and broken tin cans and pills to kill pain . And from time to time, i dream of myself drinking from the river my aunt bled in. I do see similarites, I'm beggining to look like her with dark bags growing beneath my eyes. Mother says, in her last days, she used to walk like a wraith past people, unresponsive and unaware of any presense or absense. I too feel nothing as if i were moving between walls.
With each passing day, this urge is getting stronger, the urge to leave, the urge to sleep, the urge to bleed. And i am holding up against this blackest black struggling not to be sucked into it. It often scares me. There is a part of me getting used to this and i fear i know how it ends. I never thought these struggles would be a part of my adulthood, but here i am, twenty and wrinkled.
They say, i think a lot. At times i wonder if i ever have a daughter will she too inherit my darkness and be found in her twenties flushing my curse out of her veins?
Miraya...
(mirror)
@mmarujj
