Writing Sample 8

Holding her arms strangely parallel, yet intersecting, up against the top right corner of her face. The fleshy, bulging under section of her wrists pressing together as if bound. Grotesquely mushy. She looks down and imagines. Vomits on her lilac toenails embedded in the bleached coral of her toes, elevated off the real earth by three leaf clovers, grassy weeds. A freckle of an ant runs across a larger toe and she curls a ramp into the forest. It launches off. Swimming in a flood of milk chocolate bile. Vile. English Breakfast tea with too much sugar, separated into another larger cup. Suffocated with too much milk. She wishes it would hurry up and rain. She doesn't really. Two times she rips a leaflette and it hurts her, on the inside. Almost physically. She wants to purge it all. The caffeine swirling a headache. Failure in the bathroom poking at a space lacking of tonsils, lacking of anything. She bends the grass and clover stems with a pencil. They are bowing away from her. She can't rip them. She slides her hand down down and forces between, without strength. Its like swimming and she is underneath for a time.She looks up and hears a bird land on the wire diagonally, directly in front. A heavy, god awful thump. This girl sees and senses shapes out of the corners of her eyes.They move and loom and dart. They also disappear. This girl is afraid of being alone. An entire empty house grows up directly behind her and it leans over her. She has goosebumps on her entire body. Bubble wrap. Un-pop-able. She is still alone and she still does not want to go inside.She goes inside and daydreams more of future llives and future houses that wont happen until she makes some sort of movement. She eats some nuts and stares at all the orange and red fish in the fish tank. She recalls her dream from the past night. The little girl and her mother, father, sister. Taking her house in the woods, on her cushions, and shoving her fish into a plastic bag without enough water. Its tail and body growing and growing and growing. Launching and flinging it. Trying to make someone put more water in the bag. Terrified and repulsed. But desperate. The waterfall outside of her glass wall, with certain panels open for air, overflowing,and pouring inside. She is sad. Only, thats not quite right. Upset that no one cares as deeply as she. That no one feels as swirlying and dizzyingly and intensely as she. Her attachments. Her desires, her true loves. Emotions she feels physically.Startled by a moving black blob on the right she jerks to look at a stationary piece of trash. She eats more nuts and is unhappy and her head still hurts. She quickly walks around the house closing scary doors and turning on all the lights. She is prepared for the night. She sits back on the couch. Then moves to the other end. Up against the wall. The salt from the nuts stings her canquer sores. She has 3. It is not her record. Unconsciously she decides to only eat with the right side of her mouth. She is a tense girl and the pounding of chewing lulls her into her head. She hypnotizes herself into that place. And she stays there.