CreepyTreeTragedy

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JawitReen

littleblueraccoon

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UrsulaDecay

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muttonfudge

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disorder by littleblueraccoon, literature

Literature

disorder

"mirror, mirror, on the wall who's the fairest of them all?" i whispered to my doleful reflection, but this was no fairy tale: this was a small town on a cold, foggy night. my skeleton was so beautiful i wanted to showcase it, give onlookers a glimpse of my impending death through my very flesh. i could picture myself, edges carved away like a cored apple. i just wanted to feel real. everyone around me chewed and swallowed so easily but i just gnawed on my lip until i tasted blood, and let a piece of myself die. the flavor made my mouth water as my stomach ground out hoarse requests for expansion, for meaning. i held nothing within but

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub. by littleblueraccoon, literature

Literature

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.

i. to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub: in the magazine I own that published your story, they blurred out the crime scene photographs, erasing your face and the full curves of your breasts. some part of me wonders if you would have wanted this, or if you would have liked for the public to see you in your final moments, half-soaked in grey-looking water, your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain, eyes closed and mouth gaping, no breath stirring, no bubbles rising. ii. sometimes when I look into the depths of my bathroom sink, I hear your voice (or what I imagine it to be-- after all, we never met). you sit on the edge

never become a writer by littleblueraccoon, literature

Literature

never become a writer

i.never become a writer. you will become a perfectionist, picking life apart with a magpie's eye, hunting for the beautiful bits until you can make yourself a sparkling throne in the center of a junkyard. ii.you will write when you're sad. you will write when you're happy. whenever you feel something, you will vomit the emotion out into some sort of literature. when you're finished, you'll be empty and surrounded by pages and pages of everything you once were. iii.you will try to make pain sound delicious, painting over the ragged wounds with pink paint and candy-coat lies. you will learn how to decorate graveyards. everyone will play