Aurora Magazine 2009

How To Survive By Courtney Forsyth

The room is out of focus, Balance is heavy and off. “I didn’t take too many,”

She reassures herself, Pokes her stomach… “Take more!” Sinister fingers lunge out to rip open more, Violently, throws herself on the bed. “No more. Not tonight.”

Staring at the ceiling, abusing herself to fix her fat. Barely, very small movements come from her lungs. “Legs lose ability; arms require more effort after swallowing many. What if lungs do too? Must I pry eyes open all night to beg lungs to rise then fall?” Eyes suddenly freeze over from shock. She wants to live. Terrified, redirects crashing thoughts. Nasty. Disgusting. Repulsive. “Stuck in this horrifying body. In my worthless mind. Take a few more, To escape. Just for the night until a new sun.” High pitched buzzing forces her out of the chemically induced, almost coma. Dress, class, binge, pills. She stands in the same spot, With the same pills, Caused by the same thing. Eyes criticize pudding like thighs. And her mind questions,

“Will life forever revolve around these pills?” The little tablets become a part of the body. And for tonight, Her life will revolve around them. Rising and falling, In a chemically induced, almost coma.