When i say lost your probs think a beauty blogger is talking about a tv show, or missing something but today i am bring you a literary post! I'm going to show you an essay/narrative i wrote. This is for my english homework this week, and we were given the task to write about something missing, either an object or something less tangible. I wrote about someone who LOST their minds. clever, right? haha i'm not saying it's the best piece i've ever done, but one of the ones i'm most proud on. Best part? It's due tomorrow? when did i start? 2 hours ago :)
Anyways i hope you enjoy!
LOST by Perdita beeeeeep
(Please mind all swearing and inappropriate language, I thought it would suit the character if I used realistic language to her type!)
I remember long ago, when I was a teen, I had fake black hair and purple eye contacts. I remember being fascinated with blood; I would obsess. Each time I had a nosebleed, I would take pictures and smile at the beautiful colour dripping down my face. One drop, two drop, three drop. The beautiful colour, the rivers of crimson rushing down my face. I loved it. The river would drop off my chin, like a waterfall, into the white marble of my bathroom sing. As that colour flowed around, my eyes watching it like a mad person, watching the splatters of it dance around. My parents found it creepy, but I hid it from them. As you could probably tell, I had no friends. I would spend my time alone, with Claudine and Joshua. My only friends. They would play with me, stare at blood and be with my constantly. Nobody else talked to them, I don’t know why. Everyone else at school acted like they didn’t exist, I was at least picked on and bullied. I found them amazing, they would look at me and listen and rarely speak. They never did anything active though and my parents acted like they didn’t know them, which surprised me because they lived at my house, our house, my house, our house, My house.
When I was seventeen, my parents had caught me taking cocaine in my bedroom. I had a black eye and bleeding lip. And I was just expelled, the cause of black eye and the lip. I shall start off with this, when people get me angry, I fight back. I am not like those wimps who just sit there and cry, I never cry. Someone said I was damaged and I punched them, they punched back then the school got involved. Well I am now expelled. But oh well, who cares? I don’t. My parents flew up with anger about how they just received the email of my expulsion, three days after I stopped showing up. I regularly got in fights, in school, down at the park, uptown, everywhere really. I don’t care about what others think, I am I, and I don’t care about life. After they ran up, and caught me I screamed! I was shouting and screaming and scaring them. I threw a plate at my father, and cigarette ashes at fight. He was my age I think. He was shorter then me, but much heavier. Apparently he heard me mutter a racist comment and came up to me. I told him to f off, then one thing led to another and I found something energetic and emotional in fighting. I found it a beautiful way to express emotion; it was art to me. I had a way of feeding off the watchers adrenalin so even if I were out all mother. Yes, I was out of control but as I said, it was my house. They screamed and shout but nothing could compare to me. They fled the house in fear. I continued on as I was.
I remember when I was fourteen I got in a fight, my first night I would win the fight. I got suspended then, deleted the suspension email before my parents got home and spent the days in a grave yard, smoking and talking to Claudia and Joshua – for some reason they got suspended with me.
One day someone; I think it was that stupid stuck-up bitch, Ariella, told me I was crazy. I always muttered to myself, but I actually was talking to Joshua and Claud! Why would she pretend I was always on my own? It’s not like they were invisible. Joshua had pale skin and nearly grey eyes and his hair was there but you never noticed it, like it was invisible. Claudia on the other hand was the palest girl I new, and her eyes were a strange colour of clear but I would say it was grey, kind of like Joshua. They might have been related? I don’t know, they never spoke. Just listened, and looked at me however I would hope they would, like they could see straight into my soul, like they poured out from my soul! I shouted at Ariella, how dare she! I’m not a loner! I’m not a freak! I have friends and they know I do. Everyone, I think, can see them even though they act that they can’t. I kicked her, and she ran crying and red-faced to the teacher. Miss Fagen, I think it was.
‘Miss! Miss! Miss Fagan! She kicked me! I’m bleeding! I’m BLEEEEEEEEEEDING!’ That horrible shriek that always bled from her mouth like when a gash touches salt water. Everyone turned and looked at me though, like I was some sort of scum. I screamed. And ran out. I hated it! I hated being looked at like I was crazy. Claudine and Joshua came with me, and we went to the bike shed and smoke cigarettes till I was calm and then I just went home.
That night I found a knife, a sharp kitchen knife, it was waiting for me, for my success. I thought about the wonders it could do for me. It could kill my parents, how lovely would that be? Have you ever had the moment when you hate your parents so much that you want to kill them? Well I have. The blood! The beautiful rivers of crimson, I can have a whole ocean full. I draw the knife up to my wrist and look at the fine incision I need to make for it to complete. And I press down, the cut ripping my skin. The first droplet of blood comes pouring down. I smile a vicious grin. I smell it, the fresh scent of heat and death mixed into one pleasurable sadistic aroma. It pours down my wrist now, gushing! The site of the redness makes me feel like a celebrity, my arm has it’s own carpet leading to glory. A pang of pain hits me; I treat it like an enveloping hug. I can’t stop staring at my arm in disbelief, how can such a random object product such beautiful things? It is amazing. I do it again, making a small incision round my wrist then a push, it falls deeper. More blood more fame. I stare at the blood tinted steel blade. It reflects back success. It’s me dehumanized and it has given me the control to follow the path I want.
I remember that night so well, the night of my 15th birthday that was. The night my obsession reached a new level. I never found a problem in it; I was just feeding my craving. It made me satisfied, not for long though. I never thought I was harming my body, or being weird. Claudine and Joshua did it to! Just nobody ever complained about them doing it! Why not? It is unfair!
Another flash back. When I was seven, I was with my grandfather, before he died. In his living room, with the front door locked. The blinds were closed, the lights were off only the fire and the candles remained. I heard him whisper. ‘Come hear NOW!’ he would boom in this low whisper that made every hair on my skin stand up. I trembled over. He slapped me, I was used to it. This time I didn’t even fall over. I felt the heat radiate off my glowing cheeks, the fire illuminating the pain. Then he just walked away, went back into his study. Why did he do this? This might be what caused my problems. I could hear the crying of Joshua and Claudine, who obviously had the same punishment. They understand, I know they can, I can feel their comforting sobs in my conscience. This is what started me off.
You might be thinking what started what off? Or what did I lose? What was the point of this story? Well I lost my mind.
Don't think i'm crazy! please! i just have an imagination for dark things! None of this is true! based on true! semi-fiction! this is all just work straight from my head! Please don't judge?
What do you all think! Please comment down below! really i need it! And what's the best piece of work you've done