by Nerissa Hatts Wed Jul 07, 2010 7:41 am
A DIARY OF NERISSA HATTSi've been roaming around always lookin down at all i see. painted faces fill the
places i can't reach. you know that i could use somebody you know that i could
use somebody someone like you and all you know and how you speak countless
lovers undercover of the street you know that i could use somebody you know
that I could use somebody someone like you off in the night while you live it up i'm
off to sleep waging wars to shake the poet and the beat I hope it's gonna make& IT IS JULY SEVENTH 2022
When I looked in the mirror when I woke up this morning, I was frowning… and it scared me.
Why? Why on earth would a simply frown frighten someone out of their wits? It wasn’t any
ordinary frown; my eyes, they were filled with some strange hatred I have never felt before
in my life, and my lips were so pale, and they looked as if they fit better- more comfortably
- frowning like that.
I was in pain that entire morning. Not a physical pain- my body had been relieved of that sort
of pain as soon as the paramedic back in Egypt had slid that long needle into my arm, and pump-
ed my blood with a strong pain killer- no, it was a pain that I felt in beneath my ribcage, dull bu-
t still there, as if someone were knocking against my heart with their fist, lightly, but still out
of anger and determination to make me feel as if someone I’d loved had died. I’d died, hadn’t I? I’d
died when I had seen that look in my best friend’s eyes; that look of pain, as if I had betrayed hi-
m, choosing to go with Ne’Os. I had betrayed him. I had died. I had frowned this morning. I had fe-
lt my heart shatter into pieces in my chest when I had told my own uncle to leave me to be tor-
tured. I had trusted Ne’Os. I had thanked him.
I hadn’t slept in a long time. Why? Because every time I close my eyes now I see that blood that
was on the floor the evening I’d been tortured. Whose blood had it been again? They called him
Nick- I remember hearing his name several times that dreaded evening. I didn’t know much
about him, but that wasn’t the point; that pool of blood- I remember how badly I wanted to run
my fingers through it. I think, for a moment, I’d felt bloodlust within me- a want to paint the
pealing wallpaper with the hot, sticky liquid. And so I don’t close my eyes now, because I’m af-
raid of seeing myself.
I’m afraid of looking in the mirror, and I’m afraid of hurting someone because of this odd lo-
nging to hear them scream. I blame Ne’Os Emof; he tortured me, made me scream and beg for me-
rcy, and now my mind is filled with homicidal thoughts. I need to be innocent. So I won’t clo-
se my eyes, and I will escape, because my mind cant afford any more corruption.
with love fading hope,
- - - Nerissa ALL SEEING EYES CREATION
AT CAUTION BUT THE
GRAPHICS BY YOURS TRULY
