let the picture speak my thousand words…

48 hours until I am free- when spring break officially sedates me. I feel as if any moment, I will collapse. Frail, weak and barely rested, I am forced to endure the next 2 days with the least amount of tranquility.

Before Spring Break this is due: I have to do a physics lab – finish my sketchbook – put last touches on my oil painting (pray it dries and the rain will not sabatoge my efforts) – english essay – oh and try to get in at least 5 hours of sleep in those 48 that I have to live through.

Anyone willing to switch lives, or best of all, let me borrow your spare hours. I am swamped. All I am waiting for is that moment I finally erupt.

I can’t utter a word let alone whisper a phrase.

My voice, when I try to speak my throat burns.

I am hating this discomfort but take in the pain surpisingly well but how long can I last?

Might as well add that my running nose is begining its marathon so damn it all, a headache and elevating my sickness is waiting. Why, just why when this entire week is all tests.

Argh.

I have a pathetic fear and it’s come true or so it seems. In the literal and physical aspect of it, I’m losing sight. I see a blur, I see the haze and most of all your face is disfigured. That oddly pleases me. But I long not to wear a mask and hide behind it receding to my fate. Damn, ooops, **** and ****. Life goes on and I think you have. So my vision’s no longer of importance and….nothing less.

PS. Being blind considers me weak and so I understand now why you stand behind the mark and watch from the sidelines as I dally with fate, I owe  you a thanks and I thank God I need no longer to look at your despicable face.

I’m well – moderately well. I’ll be better if your words stopped echoing on my flesh. I’ll be better if my stomach stopped tingling of pain because those shards of glass you spread on my skin are embedding. It’s working but you promised the feeling rages for an hour then calms, that’s when I’ll be well again. **** your promise! My flesh is pale and you resume rubbing your palm against my hand. I chew on my lips biting back the pain. But crimson red leaks amidst this torture you promised would do me well. You promised it wouldn’t hurt for long? Didn’t you promise I’d be cured? It was another one of your lies. I should have never trusted a liar like you. Serves me well.

I’m numb now, and your promise was unkept…

I’m well again.