"Pick us, pick us!" screams the bottle of Lunesta. "You'll never be lonely with us. We'll always be with you."
Her tapping finger absentmindedly travel from her lips to the cap of the pills where it continues to drum a steady beat. Then, slowly, her lips curve upward into a smile.
Perfect, she thinks as she wraps her hand around the bottle and straightens.
With small, silent steps, she makes her way across the room to the fridge. She holds tightly onto the bottle in one hand while pouring a glass of water with the other. All her motions are perfect and effortless.
On her way to the bedroom, she stops in front of the hallway mirror. As she checks her make-up, hair, and clothing, she whispers to herself that it will be the last time. Everything has to be perfect for the last time. When she is satisfied with what she sees, she continues for the bedroom.
“Yes, yes, yes!” each Lunesta pill cries as it falls into the palm of her hand.
When she hears the single sound inside the bottle, her hand freezes midair. A single thought crosses her mind. It’s the last pill.
Before she has a chance to think any further, the last pill falls out of the bottle and into her palm. It speaks of beautiful promises and dreams. That is all she needs to hear. One by one, each pill enters her mouth.
Finally, she thinks after the last pill is gone, the perfect ending.
Quickly, but painlessly, her consciousness begins to drift. She can feel the many hands of drowsiness creeping into her mind but decides not to fight them. Instead, she welcomes them. The moment her eyes close, she sees her perfect ending:
They will find her on the perfectly made bed inside the perfectly structured bedroom. They will quickly learn that red and white are the perfect colors to contrast the shades of her life and skin. They will see how beautiful she looks freed from society’s hypocritical standards and criticisms. They will finally hear her story and the unfairness of her imperfections. However, they will never be able to feel or understand the indescribable pain that comes with being imperfect… because they were all born perfect.
As she draws in her last breath, a final thought crosses her mind. A thought that arrives a little too late, and her eyes remain closed forever.
This is not a perfect ending.
© N. Hli 2016 All rights reserved.
[Date written: August 2016]
Perfect, she thinks as she wraps her hand around the bottle and straightens.
With small, silent steps, she makes her way across the room to the fridge. She holds tightly onto the bottle in one hand while pouring a glass of water with the other. All her motions are perfect and effortless.
On her way to the bedroom, she stops in front of the hallway mirror. As she checks her make-up, hair, and clothing, she whispers to herself that it will be the last time. Everything has to be perfect for the last time. When she is satisfied with what she sees, she continues for the bedroom.
“Yes, yes, yes!” each Lunesta pill cries as it falls into the palm of her hand.
When she hears the single sound inside the bottle, her hand freezes midair. A single thought crosses her mind. It’s the last pill.
Before she has a chance to think any further, the last pill falls out of the bottle and into her palm. It speaks of beautiful promises and dreams. That is all she needs to hear. One by one, each pill enters her mouth.
Finally, she thinks after the last pill is gone, the perfect ending.
Quickly, but painlessly, her consciousness begins to drift. She can feel the many hands of drowsiness creeping into her mind but decides not to fight them. Instead, she welcomes them. The moment her eyes close, she sees her perfect ending:
They will find her on the perfectly made bed inside the perfectly structured bedroom. They will quickly learn that red and white are the perfect colors to contrast the shades of her life and skin. They will see how beautiful she looks freed from society’s hypocritical standards and criticisms. They will finally hear her story and the unfairness of her imperfections. However, they will never be able to feel or understand the indescribable pain that comes with being imperfect… because they were all born perfect.
As she draws in her last breath, a final thought crosses her mind. A thought that arrives a little too late, and her eyes remain closed forever.
This is not a perfect ending.
© N. Hli 2016 All rights reserved.
[Date written: August 2016]
This is so beautiful, Hli! Wow! You're fantastic at writing the little picturesque details.
ReplyDeleteYou have a very lovely blog here. :) I just wanted to drop by and say thank you for following my own blog earlier! I truly appreciate it.
Keep up the wonderful writing!
Eve
Edge of Night
Thank you, Eve! Your words and support truly means a lot! :)
Delete