Post by Eisley the Mildly Insane on Feb 4, 2005 19:46:23 GMT -5
o O (Hello everyone. I was inspired by Cameron Duncans story and decided to write something in the spirit of his movies. This is not however a copy. Rylee is my own character and the story also lives in my brain housing group. This will be rated PG unless something changes. All writers love feedback so be generous!!)
I hate this meaningless existence, being locked away here. My world has become an endless cycle of bad food, constant pain, and sleep. Sometimes I read or watch television but they don't break the monotony. I have visitors, but not often. Even they bore me. They talk of the same things every time. Football games, prom dresses, graduation. It's like they don't care that I'm not getting to do any of that stuff. None.
There's younger people than me in here. So little but they bear up under the pressure admirably. I try not to feel sorry for myself, especially when I'm around them. They always smile and laugh at me. Like I'm special because I take the time to play with them. They're invincible, always believing that soon they'll get out of here. They make plans of what they'll do when they finally earn their freedom. But most find freedom only in death that comes like an angel of mercy. Even I am hoping that this dark, beautiful being visits me soon.
I'm back in the race again. Every morning the needle pierces my arm coursing the liquid into my veins that will either kill me or heal me. It burns making me hungry but never able to keep anything in my stomach. Even the one solace I had offers peace no longer. It keeps me from sleeping. Sleep makes me forget that I'm here. My memory returns when I wake though and thats the worst part. Sweat drips off my shaved skull and I reach for the bucket by my bed. I cough up the crackers I had forced myself to eat 20 minutes ago. There's no use in it really. In two weeks I'll be off the stuff and regaining my strength. Then two weeks later I'll be sick again.
In the morning she comes in, helps me make my bed with clean sheets. I always feel so self conscious around her. She's so pretty and me with my bald head and skinny body, it's hard to understand why she's here. It's her job and every time I see her I realize I could be her. Strong and beautiful, an engagement ring on my left hand. I wonder if she's happy. Does she appreciate what she has and I don't? That she can take a breath without her lungs feeling like they are going to pop. I don't think so. We never speak to each other. I can feel her pity for me just as she feels my envy for her.
I should probably tell you about myself. My name is Rylee Anderson. Rylee's a family name. It's given to the oldest daughter of the oldest son since anyone can remember. I'm 18 and supposed to be graduating this year. I have dark red hair and green eyes. Or I used to have red hair. Since last May the only hair I have is in my Before pictures. I was a cheerleader, the flier to be exact. I don't think I can do a split anymore. I haven't kept up with my studies like I should have. Even if I do get out of here alive I don't think I'll go back to school. What does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? See theres a little thing I forgot to mention. I have cancer lesions on my lungs.
I hate this meaningless existence, being locked away here. My world has become an endless cycle of bad food, constant pain, and sleep. Sometimes I read or watch television but they don't break the monotony. I have visitors, but not often. Even they bore me. They talk of the same things every time. Football games, prom dresses, graduation. It's like they don't care that I'm not getting to do any of that stuff. None.
There's younger people than me in here. So little but they bear up under the pressure admirably. I try not to feel sorry for myself, especially when I'm around them. They always smile and laugh at me. Like I'm special because I take the time to play with them. They're invincible, always believing that soon they'll get out of here. They make plans of what they'll do when they finally earn their freedom. But most find freedom only in death that comes like an angel of mercy. Even I am hoping that this dark, beautiful being visits me soon.
I'm back in the race again. Every morning the needle pierces my arm coursing the liquid into my veins that will either kill me or heal me. It burns making me hungry but never able to keep anything in my stomach. Even the one solace I had offers peace no longer. It keeps me from sleeping. Sleep makes me forget that I'm here. My memory returns when I wake though and thats the worst part. Sweat drips off my shaved skull and I reach for the bucket by my bed. I cough up the crackers I had forced myself to eat 20 minutes ago. There's no use in it really. In two weeks I'll be off the stuff and regaining my strength. Then two weeks later I'll be sick again.
In the morning she comes in, helps me make my bed with clean sheets. I always feel so self conscious around her. She's so pretty and me with my bald head and skinny body, it's hard to understand why she's here. It's her job and every time I see her I realize I could be her. Strong and beautiful, an engagement ring on my left hand. I wonder if she's happy. Does she appreciate what she has and I don't? That she can take a breath without her lungs feeling like they are going to pop. I don't think so. We never speak to each other. I can feel her pity for me just as she feels my envy for her.
I should probably tell you about myself. My name is Rylee Anderson. Rylee's a family name. It's given to the oldest daughter of the oldest son since anyone can remember. I'm 18 and supposed to be graduating this year. I have dark red hair and green eyes. Or I used to have red hair. Since last May the only hair I have is in my Before pictures. I was a cheerleader, the flier to be exact. I don't think I can do a split anymore. I haven't kept up with my studies like I should have. Even if I do get out of here alive I don't think I'll go back to school. What does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? See theres a little thing I forgot to mention. I have cancer lesions on my lungs.
