The Last 12 Minutes

The television served only as background noise. The theme song to some ridiculous cartoon blared in the background as I laid in bed, deep in thought. I contemplated shutting the television off, but couldn’t bear to. It’s been on for seven days straight. Why bother? It’d look too suspicious. My door’s been locked, and I only leave when I absolutely have to. My fingers fumbled with the familiar orange bottle on my nightstand. Pop.

Seven-thirty.

Random chitter chatter occurs outside my door in the early morning hours: the other girls getting ready, talking about their weekends, their boyfriends, and their perfect lives. If only. Their conversations make me sick. Pop.

Seven-thirty two.

I have a stack of index cards on my desk, most of them have random scribbles written on them when I felt particularly bad about myself. Which is always these days. Pop. They contained the usual “you’re fat, you’re stupid, you’re not going anywhere in life, with the occasional grocery list reminders of “more fruit” and “never buy banquet chicken ever again.” Pop.

Seven-thirty five.

I often wonder about reincarnation and the after life… what it would be like to be a ladybug, or a cat… wondering if I can haunt my enemies and create miracles for my friends, if I had any. Pop.

Seven-thirty seven.

I once tried to stick a nail in my eye, just to see what would happen. I didn’t get very far. I even suck at trying to kill myself. Pop. Too afraid. A coward. Pop.

Seven-thirty eight.

I remember once, being in the water with my eyes closed. I was holding a rose. The image would have made a nice postcard, or the subject of a fantasy art painting. I was wearing my prom dress. Well, what would have been my prom dress if my date wouldn’t have ditched me the day of. Pop.

Seven-forty.

Floating in the water, I felt so free, euphoric. I wanted to stay there forever, holding my breath… that only lasted… one, two… maybe three minutes. I was rescued that time. Now I am locked, alone, in my room, with nothing but an almost empty prescription. Pop. Pop. Pop.

I am finally free.