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A Beautiful Moment: Chapters I & II

TaJuan is an aspiring writer hoping to gain experience and growth through publishing passionate works, like this one, online for the world.

CHAPTER ONE

The beginning was blurred,

My time at the hospital,

Words, words, words

The nurses spoke,

But I didn’t listen,

For I was missing

Alex too much.

They kept me in a room

With no mate.

Walls were white with pictures of inspiration.

Maybe it was the pills,

But in this situation

Those words,

Designed to make us healthier,

Only made me more ill,

Still,

The drugs were effective at one thing:

I slept like a beast,

A bear in hibernation.

I took in consideration

To maybe eat,

But I refused.

I wasn’t ready for defeat.

Though it would be hard,

My cause of death would be

That I starved;

However,

It was not sustainable.

Death unattainable,

I had lost.

I was lost,

Scared,

Alone.

No calls for me on the phone,

My familial relations were strained,

Gained

Were some friends from school,

But I wouldn’t allow them to be around me

Anymore,

The half-human, half-ghoul,

And it was clear to steer away

From the people who were near

In fear their pain

Made them far more insane

Than me.

Three,

Those were the amount of days

I had to stay

Away from my dorm.

Norm-

ally,

More time would be required,

But experience has wired

My mind to crack the system:

Go to group,

Stay active,

Take your meds,

Go to bed.

Repeat, repeat, repeat,

Then your institutionalized vacation is complete.

This all occurred in the summer of senior year.

The end of college was almost here.

I wasn’t ready indeed.

But we were going to manage,

Me and weed.

CHAPTER TWO

I stumbled into the classroom,

And mumbled incoherent nothings,

Right as the professor began her lecture.

It was too early in the morning,

And I was higher than the kites I used to fly as a kid.

Oh, those were the days,

Where time moved at rapid fire speeds,

But I rarely noticed

Because the concept of time was beyond me.

Now, I’m well aware of cruel, indifferent time,

Steadily moving forward,

Unwilling to let me relive those childhood days,

Even for a second.

They’re only kept alive through recollections,

Or else,

Those memories would be reduced to mere fiction.

The question remained:

Why was I high?

Well,

I’m rarely sober anymore.

Reality is simply too much.

My illness is simply too much.

Everything is simply too much,

Especially now that he’s gone.

I limited myself to the grass,

Just some bud in a bowl or a bong,

Normal or gravity,

It never really mattered,

Just enough to have me feel lighter than air,

Floating with the clouds.

It’s better than the ground:

Wars, disease, poverty,

It makes me sick to this day,

But that’s just the world being the world.

No matter if I like it or not,

It’ll just be.

So whether someone likes me high in class or not,

I don’t really care.

I’m just going to be.


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