Thursday, June 28, 2007

We are oft to blame...

My head hurts.
I rub with my hand, but I don't feel it.
I look around, and all I see is mud, it clears and I see grass.
Lovely green grass, greener than I have ever seen it.
I am still alive.
What a relief it is, to know that you still have to live a while longer now.
Then I remember her.
Actually I remember her glasses. She wears the thick, black kind remember ?(I know what baudrillard meant when he talked about hyper-reality.)
They make her look more serious than she actually is.
Then, again she does look like she is 16 when she takes them off.
Where am I ? Why can't I hear anything ?I look and see a broken swing. I see the remains of a see-saw. I am in a ground. Why ?
Then I remember, she is in trouble. I am in trouble.
The whole thing is messed up. Shit.
I must run, and find help. But what do I tell people ?
We knew what we were getting into. It didn't seem such a big deal then, then why am I so scared now.
She had asked me not to go ahead with the 'plan' when she first heard it, but she later relented. I started hating her for changing her mind.
What time is it ? My watch is gone. My dad's Omega. He'll kill me when he finds out, If I get out of this mess alive.
I surmise it's evening. I have to start planning my next move. Suddenly, I hear an unfamiliar voice call out my name. I turn around to see...


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