I stood high above the city, staring at random objects that entered my field of vision. Pigeons, families, even holidaying midgets. But, I was not happy. Far from it. I was sad. Back in the city, things were hardly better. I realized my leg was bleeding, and the wound on the back of my hand was oozing this clear yellowish fluid that smelled of vanilla. I also remember it was the anniversary of my parents divorce. I sent mom a card and vomited into a postbox. Things were a bit weird at that moment. Lost in a reverie, I made my way down to the port and idly threw rocks at the passing fisherman. It has been three weeks since I gave up smoking, but it hasn't gotten any easier. It looks like it is going to rain. As I paused and sat down at a bench, a bearded man stopped and sidled up to me… “You want beer? Any kind of liquor? I can get what you want….any kind of alcohol!” I pushed him aside, and sprinted to the train station. I jumped onto the first train I saw. I had no idea where I was going. The train was strangely quiet. My leg stopped bleeding. It felt so good. I smiled. I sneaked off the train at Turnpike Lane…it was deserted. In a dark empty corridor, I stopped. I felt naked, suddenly hidden and anonymous. My anxiety eased away. I stopped dead.
2006-11-29
04:49:08
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1 answers
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asked by
rabbit0102030
3
in
Psychology