Dream
or
Nightmare
How did I do this?
How could I swallow so many of them? Have I really gone insane, has
sewing and breathing became one? I know I shouldn’t leave
needles around- but really there was no harm, in fact it was
amusing to watch others or I get pricked. But this is not funny at
all, this is terrifying.I’ve swallowed so many needles. I can’t remember how many were in my mouth, I can’t even remember what I was stitching together! That is all a hazy blur, useless information. All I remember is the sharp pain of those needles going down my throat- some stuck in the wall. Quickly I coughed up a few needles, but those were only the loose ones from my esophagus, spit out by blunt force. So I’m a bit panicked now, frozen in this state of shock and terror. I need to tell my parents. I feel needles poking the soft tissue of my stomach as walk carefully out of my bedroom. Taking a slow inhale, I try to count the metal objects I feel terrorizing my stomach, and a few still stubbornly stuck in my throat. I’m panicking, the pain is real- but the fear is running higher. The wave that drowns me will be made of terror, not pain. I let out a small gasp, taking baby steps towards my parents, because even as careful as I am moving the objects are penetrating my organ. It’s damaged now- who knows what could leak into my poor stomach.
Before I manage to say anything to my father and mother, I puke in pure spite of stress. Stomach acid, my last meal, various red chunks, and luckily a few needles pour out. The needles had painfully came in contact with my inner neck, and drew a bit of blood. I winced at the sharp feeling and began to speak, only to be interrupted. “What is wrong with you girl? So stressed about something you are going to tell us that you puked? What are you hiding?” My mom asked sternly, narrowing her eyes at the puke, clearly disgusted. I felt a bit offended as a strain of stinky wet red hair blocked my view. Inside me I felt the needles teasing me with the oddest, weirdest pain I ever felt before. I twitched a few times, at surprise inner stabs, before talking. How dare they question disloyalty of me during this? “I s-swallowed needles! M-Mom! I need to go to the d-doctor! Right-t now!” I stuttered a bit, clearly breaking. My dad raised a brow but remained with droopy bored eyes. Mother remained angry, and her expression seemed to harden a bit. “You. Swallowed. Needles? How dare you? Fine, of course will take you to the Doctor, we love you after all.” She hissed, venom was on her voice, like I interrupted something important. I dawned on me they were probably busy fighting, but I was certain they’d head straight for the car. Swallowing tiny swords wasn’t exactly something to be calm about.
Shaking and squinting as they pricked my insides I held my arms and shuffled outdoors. With loud heart beats I head towards the white low car and opened a door. I didn’t really want to sit down though, for such a movement would cause the needle army to avenge their puked brothers. Instead as I waited for my parents I stuck my finger in my mouth and tried to make myself puke. It was successful and suddenly a wave of bile and chunks swam past. I hurled into the grass, and fell unintentionally. Rapidly increasing discomfort swept through me. Not only were blades scraping off the top layers of inner skin as it plunged out of my stomach, but the ones left behind bounced in my stomach and forcefully stuck themselves into it. I groaned and went limp in dry grass, accidently landing in my own waste. I knew some would still be dancing around and would eventually reach my colon. What would happen then? That was a tunnel- if this was bad, oh no. If I were not already shuddering, I would be.
Where are my parents? I thought, tears started to fall from my eyes. The pain was not going away. Remember that moment of pure surprise and pain when you sticked yourself? That never went away. I couldn’t pay attention to my surrounding, because my whole body was focused on dealing with the stinging pressure. My parents should be here! They should be picking me up and rushing me to the hospital- then it would be all alright, they would perform some difficult surgery and the pain would be gone, whether I died from overdose of pain pills or they got all the pain pills out. The blaring of my parents angry voices swarmed my ears, they seemed muffled though and uneeded. Their argument was over something so pointless, so useless. Just like my life. With heavier tears, and more collapsing pain, I realized even in my most injured moments. I would die- die from swallowing a thousand needles. This was god’s punishment, I know now, he hated how much I disrespected life- how much I despised it. So he granted my wish in a crooked way.
I’m going to die. But, I want to, these sharp pains have started to make blood well from my gut and throat and I’m starting to see that I want even know how this razor pointed objects will exit. My family, that always said “I love you”, “You can talk to me”, “You can trust us”, “You can rely on us”, as left me in my dyeing moment. Who knew needles could draw so much blood? I thought in faint attempt of humor. I wasn’t even coughing up bile anymore, red liquid was just starting to slowly drain from my mouth. I can’t remember if I’m shaking still, I can’t remember where I am. What is this insanity? What is dripping into my organ? It’s ok. It is just pain. It’s simply nerves- I know I am going to lose my life, all I have to do is past the last trial. This horrible, unbearable pain that makes me cramp and fill my gut with acid is worth it. I’ve always felt trapped, this society isn’t accepting, I never wanted to obey Earth’s rules, I never wanted to continue on. Why complete a game that ends the same for everyone? What is the point in running fast if there is no finish line?
As I lay in this vomit-covered grass, blood pouring from my mouth, making me taste nothing but warped pennies, I have started to become numb. Mind and physical body, for a faint moment I wonder if it is blood loss but that was quickly forgotten. Looking around, at the back porch, I see my mom swinging a class cup at my father’s face from across the room, who was reaching for the deathly black object in a holster. At this moment I close my eyes, allowing nothing but the pain to affect me. It is in a way- quite charming, I sickly admit. Leaving this mortal life, for something unknown, but with the price of this terrible slowly fading injury. Of course the mental wound had also been bleeding for a large amount of time.
I don’t really know now. I don’t really know how to feel, I’m- overwhelmed. The needles just cause discomfort, and the thought of death equals to happiness. But I was so betrayed, I was so alone, I was… stupid. How could I ever think anyone else cared about? Sure, they cared about the presence of me- my parents at least. But they only cared about their daughter, I never mattered. I never existed. My friends, who am I even kidding? In a time of death I try to lie to myself? My friends are not friends, they never came close to qualification. I was always alone, and in my last breath I will be no different.
It is just cruel fate punishing the worst sinful thoughts from ever becoming actions.
( Based upon a dream )
Notes:
- I am very scattered brain in both this dream, story, notes, and life. I believe it is because I am losing my grip on reality, all apologies.
I had this dream yesterday night. It is the only dream I have ever remembered and it has drawn me into some thoughts. I always wish for pain, I always wish to die. In this dream I get that, it is very hard to handle but I still choose it over life, in hopes that afterlife will exclude all of life’s matter. However I still wish that someone would care about me, miss me, or remember me, as much as I hate being dependent it is true. In this dream I have hit with the blunt truth that this will not happen, and that all my suspicious were correct. This dream created a real feel of panic and anxiety. Which is something I suffer from greatly. The reason my parents were oblivious in the story, or simply annoyed is because how they act towards me. I don’t know- they want to help me but don’t? How can that work? I think this dream tried to explain it. In the other small part they are busying fighting instead of realizing my struggle. That happens a lot. The glass bit was just a add in for my fear… I feel guilty a lot for such dark thoughts, and it would make sense, for any god or karma, to punish me for it. So swallowing needles without remembering on accident seemed like a pretty tormenting punishment. Not that there isn’t any more terrorifying way to go.
My “theory”
- The needle problem are the mental struggles I’m having. My parents are the whole family- how they harshly ignore me, and even seem to taunt me a little, even when I clearly have evidence. Lying in the grass with puke was like laying in my problems and not being able to drag myself out of them because of the mental struggle. Me dying, well, perhaps that is the same- just giving up and accepting myself into the mental insanity. Whether it be my death or the padded cube room.
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