penguinflavoureddoom

clean up clean up clean everything you touch, don't let anyone know you were there. don't let anyone know you exist. fade into the background. go on. fade. fade faster. no one wants to see you. no one wants ... you. be smaller. occupy less space. less. LESS. no one wants to see you. no one wants you. don't speak. don't you dare speak. no one wants to hear you. no one wants you. no one likes you. no one cares. you don't deserve any space any love any time. you are worthless. you are useless. you are nothing. get out get out go. be silent. be invisible.

   Aveline looked at him, wide-eyed with excitement and wriggling like a puppy preparing to prance after a ball. Her voice began in piano -- hushed, sweet, longing,       "Let's go away. Far away. To a big city, with trains and taxis, and live in an old, brick building a million miles tall," but soon, she crescendoed. A beautiful, soaring mezzo forte.         "Let's drink crappy coffee and watch the sun rise from our decrepit fire escape.       And late at night, when street and star light are the only ones around, let's climb as high as we can and dance on the rooftop til we meet morning again.       Let's live like peasants while ou

she knew where she was before she even opened her eyes. it was the smell that gave it away. the smell of too much clean. clean for the sake of diminishing the scent of death and disease. it made her sick. she wretched and she writhed as the smell consumed her. before she'd even opened her eyes, she knew what she would see. white. white. everywhere. bored nurses and sickness all around. but worst of all, all those sad eyes. sad eyes of those visiting their loved ones. sad eyes of those losing their loved ones slowly, steadily, but you can see that they know the end is all too near. though, perhaps what made

when they found her, she was lying on the floor beside her bed. his bed, she said. it still smelled like him. a little like his cologne, a little like his shampoo, a little like his skin, and even a little like his feet. and she couldn't sleep in it anymore. [mostly, she couldn't sleep anymore.] that poor girl. she looks emaciated. just gooseflesh and bones in a pile on the floor. hasn't she been eating? no, I don't think so. did you see the fridge? sixteen lasagnas, four tuna casseroles, nine pies. and plenty of mold to go 'round. she smells like booze. let's get her to the hospital. the hospital. white rooms whi

three weeks and thirteen lasagnas. that's how long it had been. thirteen damn lasagnas and they were starting to stink. who the hell expects me to eat this much lasagna, anyway? three were from that old lady that lived a little ways down the street with about a million and a half cats. three. one each week. and number four would be on its way in another day or two. you'd think she'd get the hint when I didn't give back the dishes. but as long as she didn't leave her room, she couldn't smell the lasagnas. and so all she had to do was not move. and that worked well as she tried to remain as numb as she possi

these days, sad feels a lot like tired. or maybe tired feels a lot like sad. she wasn't really sure. maybe they'd always been sort of the same and she was just too happy to notice. she used to be happy, it's true. she used to smile for no reason. she'd laugh all the time, too. but nothing was the same with him gone. there was just this emptiness. a never-ending never-changing emptiness. and it just kept getting b i g g e r. like a blackhole formed in her chest. and it just kept getting b   i   g   g   e   r. it just kept sucking in more of her heart. happiness is not the absence of sadness. but sadness, most