Frozen Angel By Bo-Edward Lawrence

A Frozen Angel 

        They had missed it. Nobody blamed them, but they shouldn't have missed it. I just don’t understand why the world has abandoned me. I sit in my room staring for hours at this clock that seems to tick a little slower than usual. My eyes feel enlarged but filled with sand as if I couldn’t bare the pain to miss a second. Every now and then my legs begin to shake and goose bumps cover my skin like a blanket that won’t let go. As I write this letter with my pencil at hand I continue to write and erase, make and destroy, create and delete, I just can’t seem to narrow my mind enough to make a point that will stick to this white paper. I am alone and confused with many thoughts that are rushing through my head like a freight train.

I stay curled up in a fettle position in this dark corner in my room because it’s the only place in this world I feel safe. My bed seems to move centimeters away with each passing day, soon it will become a foreign object to me. My parents have always noticed my slow spiraling depression but they agreed with the rest of them when I needed them most. Every time I see their judging faces I reminisce on the time I went crazy screaming 

“Hell with all of you, one day you will wish you truly loved me. I hate every last one of you, and you will burn with the rest of them.”

Those were good times in my ongoing rebellion. I feel like a slave to prejudice beliefs. I can only remember yesterday when I got up slowly and dragged my lifeless limbs attached to this body of mine into the bathroom. The mirror was slightly cracked at the top from the anger I have faced for several weeks. I faintly remember leaning over the sink grasping the sides and screaming at my reflection. I can’t seem to remember completely because the Hennessey lifted me into a domain where I had no enemies and everything was dead to me. No matter how much I brush my hair back, wash my face, and rub my eyes this perfect image of a world is still not clear to me.

I turn around and slowly glance at the wall outside my bathroom in search for that slow ticking clock. I see those hands getting close to that point in time; I don’t want to miss this. I stumble outside the bathroom almost as if I had two right feet because my left has left with the rest of my dignity. I press my back against the wall and slowly ease my way down because it is time. I reach in my pocket where I put this note that I thought I shall leave behind. As I slowly open the folded letter I can feel the hate that I scratched into these pages manifesting into something legible. It is now 10PM, which means it’s time. I take my jacket off and neatly fold it to the left of me. I roll up my Hollister long sleeves so that my pale flesh is exposed. I can barely see as my vision blurs in and out but I know this must be done. I take out my father’s box cutter and held it tightly in my right hand. Somehow all of my thoughts and memories began to rush through my head once more. These are images I haven’t thought of in years, but for some reason they chose now to rise into my current thoughts. I can’t waste anymore time so I need to start now. I began to cut deeply into my wrist slowly separating the skin cells that held my pale flesh together. Not even on a molecular level can anything stop the message that must be sent. I feel the blood from my wrist begin to rush out filling my hands in a warm euphoria of love. I slowly hear my mother walking up the stairs calling my name loud and obnoxiously. 

“Emily you need to get out of your room you’ve been in there all day” My mother says. 

“You should’ve loved me mom! I didn’t choose to be this way! I didn’t choose to love the same sex because this is who I am!” I yelled.

 My mother then snaps back. “You are a beautiful female who chose to do those blasphemous things. You are throwing your life away! How do you think everyone is going to look at you now that you are some lesbian freak? People aren’t going to hire you or love you I regret you myself!” 

“And that is the reason why I hate you mom”

My mother began to hit the door even harder. “Open this door Emily or ill break it down your father will be here soon we are taking you to counseling and to church so you can remember the bright, young, straight lady that I raised”

I calmly responded in this dying voice of mine. “You and dad are the reason this world has so much pain. You are the sole reason for the senseless killings and racism that has plagued our earth for years. Because you cannot accept or understand other people, you try to diagnose them and exile them to be something that belongs in a negative category. Yes, I am lesbian but I am proud to be lesbian. Because as my blood slowly leaves my body I know that I will be dying as Gods beautiful creation.”

I can hear my mom after, so confused and desperately trying to get into the door more than before. She notices the blood creeping from under my door I can just hear her panicking. These are sounds of beauty for me, because of all that I’ve been through. I was just a 19 year old girl with nothing but success and love for painting on my mind. I know sometimes I might spill paint everywhere or maybe I might be a little clumsy and weird and I listen to opera and watch vintage Dracula movies but I’m sure someone would’ve loved me. My vision begins to dim and at this point I can barely comprehend my mother’s words hidden in her screams of distress. As my body begins to numb and I can no longer feel my finger tips that I use to paint those beautiful pictures with, I knew that it was over. They have all missed it, but I don’t blame them; because they are an offspring of cruel stereotypes. But they shouldn’t have missed it. Now I am laying here with my heart a couple beats away from still. The last thing I seen was my award winning painting of an Angel that I hung gracefully from my wall. But I cannot speak nor move, I am a frozen angel, a corpse of our world’s sins.

-Bo-Edward Lawrence