A Head Full of Beauty

What was it that made me this way? I was talking to my ex boyfriend and he asked me if I still drew. I'd forgotten that I used to draw. I was talented at it. Like I was at all the arts I suppose.... drawing, poetry, music.... at least I still write. And only when he brought it up again did it strike me - how dead I am now - how mechanical - how sober - how cold... like so much around me. My creativity has been so slowly smothered by this heartless world that I didn't even notice it dying. And now I'm left standing in the middle of a choking expanse of city - just a plain face to be networked by soulless bellies full of money. If I ever make it as a lawyer I will be dead. I won't be Ophelia anymore. Do you understand? I'd be one of them. The Unfeeling. Superficial Unfeeling. PLASTIC. A corporate mould of perfected plainness. I don't WANT to be like that for the sake of being normal. This is me: emotional, passionate, wild, untamed, full of pain and heart and insa...

My mum wants me to go into town with her to sort out my bank account. I go only to avoid an argument. I wear my shittest fattest clothes. Glasses. Foundation. I look like a piece of shit, humiliated by my reflection, but its ok ...it'll be two minutes in public then home to hide my ugly reflection away. I would never, ever go out looking like this on any normal occasion. I walk right into my ex-boyfriend. Not seen him since we broke up 3 years ago. Panic attack. Sweating. Shaking. Retching. Fists clenched like a murderer. Knife, blood, help me cope. Walked in the door and screamed. I want to smash things up. I want to bleed into ecstasy . He got to laugh at how ugly I am.