She fell on the ground. She would have broken it all, she was picturing it, tearing down the sheets, smashing the mirrors into pieces, finishing or starting with herself, come on, a blood flood. Aaah, headache, aaah, cracking back and grinding teeth. She had no branch to hang on to. She had the wide above, and music that filled it. *
_She staggered for a while, her back cracking loudly ; she lied on the floor. Walking was so woozy. These words resonated in her sore head : I'M ADDICTED. She admitted she was killed inside, but she wouldn't change anything to it, she'd just lie down, think about it, suffer, poor little girl, very stupid little girl.
__(Once upon a time lived a girl in her twenties, fond of Patti Smith, potatoes and orange juice with pulp. __She was sitting in a chair quite comfortable in her garden, listening to her boyfriend's iPod, when she realized she often was as fake as nail polish. Then she thought it was okay after all, or at least for today, because she was too tired to deal with it. She lazily got up to prepare herself a sandwich. __Pickles, onions, soja, salami, salad, cheese imprisoned in bread. She slowly swallowed it, thinking of nothing else but this delicious, awesome sandwich.)
____She pressed her fingers onto her eyes as if wanting to push them inside her brain. Her head was in pain like if she had drank her weight of wine. Anger is a poison, she thought, and it's getting to me too deeply. Hang her with her anger, she doesn't want to be angry, she's choking. "She's lost control again". It's always down the same road again, damn.