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Monday, February 20, 2012

Drip Dripping

Drip. I’m a rock drip in a sea drip of chaos driiip. She was like a rock in a sea of chaos, her father taught her that long ago. As she lay on the cold marble tile of the bathroom floor she kept thinking as the water dripped, I will not be broken or bullied. Nothing can bully me. Yet, she knew that wasn’t true, when it came to being bullied she was not that rock; no, she is the victim that flails her arms to stop her from drowning but in the process she tires herself out. She was that victim that had no idea how to get out of the swirling eddies despite the cries and failed attempts.

Drip. Drip. Driiip. Her tears are masked by the drip, dripping, drip, dripping of once hot bath water. She lifts her hand up to the edge of the white marble bathtub—she doesn’t want to get up, she wants to lie against the pale yellow bath mat that is neatly thrown amongst the bathroom floor. Mom was always so neat, it always amazed her that her mother found so much joy out of such things as dusting. She feels around the edge of the bathtub—god, where is it? Where is it? She begins to get frustrated—it’s not here! It’s not here! She doesn’t want to get up; the whole room spins, she just needs to sleep, but she can’t sleep and she wants that!

Knock. A loud rap on the door. “Sweetie! Are you in there! You’ve been there for a long time!” “Mom,” she gets the voice to scream, “I am a rock! I am a rock in a sea of chaos—“”Honey, what’s wrong? Open up!” “I will not be bullied or broken!” “Please let me in right now.” “Honey, honey? Are you okay? Please let me in!” After fifteen minutes of fidgeting… 


  1. Quite a sad piece, but beautiful nonetheless. Based on the last sentence will there be a sequel?

  2. Yeah. This is an unfinished piece. I was so depressed when I wrote this. As I am feeling better, I can write it better. :D

    1. I really enjoyed reading that, and I am looking forward to reading the sequel!