Burn- a Cyber gothic tale

BuRn  
  
The guard stared hard into my eyes, his own steely grey eyes were cold and hard, his hand ran through his hair, a sure sign of being stressed. Beads of sweat ran down his ruddy neck and was soaked up by his black t-shirt that strained over his bulging, veiny muscles. He moved back and regarded me for a moment and then nodded once, giving me permission to proceed. I smiled a blan smile and swayed my hips as I walked, my feet were clad in leather knee-high boots and black, sheer stockings. My black denim mini-skirt rose an inch so I pulled it down again. 


I straightened my black , lace singlet top so that I looked relatively presentable, as I reached the door of the gothic looking manor I hid behind one of the large, stone pillars and opened up my makeup compact to touch up my eyes. I applied some smokey coloured eye-shadow, ivory pressed powder and for good measure some cherry coloured lipstick, I smacked my lips together and placed the compact in my handbag. 


I rounded the piller and shoved my invitation in the door keepers hand, he let me pass without a word of recognition. I ran my fingers through my shoulder length, wavy brown hair and shook it so that it would have more bounce. I felt rather than heard the music vibrating through the room. I walked over to the large iron doors and the doorkeeper pushed the button and they opened with a slight woosh sound. Lazer lights flashed, music beated loudly and people danced mindlessly. Their arms swaying above their heads. hips swiveling. 


The room was hot due to th e throng of bodies, all squashed in together like a can of sardines. I walked up to the bar and pointed two fingers and mouthed scotch, meaning a double scotch. 


He pointed to the ice and I shook my head, I leant against the bar and the bar man plonked my glass down on the coaster next to me. I picked it up, curling my ringed fingers around the tumbler and downed it in one go. I surveyed the room, two levels, bottom one for dancing and the top one for lounging. 


As I watched the scene of people dancing I was suddenly entranced by a man who had a tattoo upon his arm that read burn in black letters. The tattoo read 
BURN

A brave face stories of depression and coping in a bipolar world

It all started with waking up feeling like I was going to be dreading the world around me, everything about it had a hue of hatred. I don’t know why I wake up like this without trigger’s, I know the scientific reasoning’s but the random acts of it just throws me for a six. I had to get up and go to work, that means putting on a face, an act, because the worst thing someone can ask is are you ok? I do not do well at all with sympathy. I know they mean well but its why I hide these emotions so strongly. They say, my coworkers that I’m the entertainer of the group, well as we all know by now entertainers also suffer from their demons.  My first task was climbing over my partner, not waking him up, and then the second most  important thing coffee. The scent of it always brings some comfort, and it almost brings an adrenaline to my otherwise numb system.

Work is basically what keeps me going; keeping busy is what keeps me going otherwise I feel as if I am in my head far too much. Some days I wish I could be someone else, so this is why I put on my entertainers front because basically they say fake it until you make it. I keep doing it because it’s what you are meant to do right? What do I do if I don’t keep on with things? I can’t even comprehend that thought because if I was at that stage it would basically mean I was feeling like a vegetable.  The thoughts keep entering my mind, why don’t you just leave? Forcing that to the back of my mind because thinking about what may or may not happen scare’s the living daylights out of me. Bathing, it’s such an effort but I do it, it’s part of the entertainers front. You cannot be gross and entertaining;  I suppose you can but that would be an entirely different genre.

Disappointment fits in my vocabulary very well because basically I do not handle that at all well, even if its small I can feel as if I am the smallest being on the planet who is about to crawl into their little whole and no one would care. Disappointment sits in my heart like a stone that sits in the bottom of a river, with the wash of pain rolling over it in the current.  At times like these I feel like why bother, but I can’t face the world naked, it’s like they will see my pain. The make up covers it from the outside almost like a mask, a mask that hides the pain. No one gets the way that people feel if they don’t feel it themselves, they say “oh just snap out of it” sometimes I feel like my head is going to burst.  From being in my head so much.  I end today's writing with the fact that I am getting up and that I am putting my brave face on to meet the world.

Trying to cope and act as if you are real and one of them, its the story of my life and in this blog I will share it with you.