Alice in Chains

there's a point in everyone's life when they come to terms with some form, a sense of reality. it just clicks, and you get it, like a light turning on in an eternally dark room. i think that point, for me, is now. i've come to terms with reality, my reality, my fate. maybe it was the chains and shackles and the ropes, binding me here for the past 2 months. the painful cramping of a starved stomach, the ichyness of a dry scratchy throat yerning for liquid, it all fits. this is how i will die. in this miserable state, i. will. die. and i'm ok with that, i mean i could have used some for of preperation, calling my parents for one because god knows they are more than likely the only ones that are even faintly worried about me at this point. to others i'm just a lost memory, already forgotten. so to who would it matter if my lifeless form showed up sometime in the near or late future? no one would care. at least that's what i think. no one cared before why should they care now. life my existance ment something to them. sure some might pretend to care, mourn and be sad, but it's just an act, it wont last long. maybe here and there if my name ever came up, which i'm sure it wont, they would express some form of sorrow and pity. they'd say 'poor alli, what a terrible loss' like it mattered to them if i would have lived or died. i think that's all there is in the pointless life. to pretend that you care. you pretend to life people and they serve there perpose, weather it be as a friend, a lover, a husband; but that's it, they serve there perpose to fill the tiny holes in your life and then you die, or they die and it's all over, the purpose is fulfilled, and the act is over. my act is comeing to a close as well and i believe that's where my whole story all begins.

so i guess to catch you up on things i could tell you a little about my situation, pure stupidity on my part i guess. 19 and in college, i needed to catch up on homework. unlike the previous rant of random people, there is no one in my life to serve any of those purposes. i never had friends or lovers and obviously not a husband, that requires dating first and i've never really gotten around to that. of course i stayed late in the library to study but with my lack of sleep, one of the many perks of being an insomniac, and a full day of work and school behind me, somewhere along the line i slipped into a harsh form of unconsiousness. at first i thought it merely a dream but when i awoke, i was in the same place my dream had left off. in my dream a band of three faceless men and scooped me up. one, the leader i suppose, was the one who had found me, he mumbled to the others to keep quiet and follow his command. the second was giddy what with his normal male hormones, was looking to fulfill one particular need, and the third had been whispering harshly to let me be. that voice was very familiar and i remember it well, i just never pin pointed where it came from. i assume the third man was cut from the band because i never saw him after that. towards the end of my dream, after having there way with me and beating me into a deeper unconsiousness, i watched from the outside, a corner of the room as they hauled me up a steep flight of stairs and left me on the floor to die. i should have known better than to think i would get out of this so easily because they tied my hands to an iron bed frame that lay upside down and without a mattress on the raw wooden surface of this ironicly morbid attick. and this brings us up to speed, this is where i've been, in this exact spot, since that dreadfull morning i awoke. i've begged and pleaded with the two men to let me go, i've sworn to secrecy of the occurences here and i've been beaten every single time i opened my mouth, so i learned not to speak. i've been silenced for a month and a half now. i've even begun to wonder if my voice would still work these days, but i don't dare and try it out. the walls and the floors and the ceilings here are paper thin and i can here every word they say and so it gives me good reason not to try and test out my lost voice. although harsh and hurtful and very very mean, these men have been kinder than need be. once a week they bring me a bottle of water and sandwich to keep me somewhat nurished, of course i know better. it's more like malnutrition, and you'd think it'd be easier for them to just LET me die, but for some unknown reason they dont and they make me live, forcing me to serve some unknown purpose in their retched lives.