a melodramatic moment

She looks on,



distant, detached, disjointed.



She watches her face crumple and fight the well of tears threatening to spill out.



Like an outsider but within herself she analyzes the situation.






"But it was something you couldn't..."

"It was beyond..."

"You did your..."






She silences the voice. This woman, with her legs carefully crossed, head tilted slightly to the right, sits outside of herself and scrutinizes. She observes as the straight back, the characteristic raw confidence that exuded out of this vibrant girl, sucks away.



She watches the girl as she holds the phone - knuckles white - listen to the voice on the other end and like an omniscient story teller, can rehash word for word what the vile voice will say.



But the blow to her is not lessened, because realization simply assaults the mind. It is the corroboration of this information, however, (through this disconnected voice) that rapes her of every last ounce of self worth.






One sentence. 6 simple words. 7 syllables. Thats all it takes.






She hates herself for this show of weakness. This woman sits outside of herself and watches as the girl (because that is all she has been reduced to) sits there and hates, more than the voice, more than the situation responsible for bringing about this response, more than anything else in this world, hates herself.






Hating the voice for causing the reaction, hating herself for her reaction to the voice. Hating herself for hating herself. Hating that she allows the voice to make her hate herself.






One full revolution after another. The feelings folding and blending into one another until only one predominant factor remains important.






hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself...






What is this girl to do? Mournfully, the woman shakes her head. She attempts once again,



"It's not your..."
"No, stop thinking like this. You did your..."
"Please realize that this is not your..."
"Don't listen to what ..."






But it is of no use, because it is drowned out. Lost in a sea of



hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself, hate herself...






So now a girl sits there, hating herself for hating herself.



A woman sadly shakes her head for all the beauty that has been lost.



And somewhere, the voice happily realizes that the woman is still yet a girl.