These are not my real parents

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All at the same time....

Fantasies of passing out and being found. That he would walk in and feel a double terrible, firstly that something had happened to her and secondly that he hadn't been there to help her when he should have.

Fantasies of passing out when they would start the conversations that undoubtedly led to the 'its over' conversation. If she could add a falling in front of a car (not to die, just to get a nasty little bump) then that would be even better.

Fantasies of looking beautiful whilst she slept. Heartbreaking to watch, her mouth slightly open and her skin warm.

That she could be a picture, a letter, a saving grace, a sigh and until these things happened that she could lose her mind every time she felt small and ugly and passed over.

..... The train shifted onto new lines and shook sideways and her sleeping head hit the window......

A man stood in front of her, one arm on the pole near the door, the other holding a novel which he appeared to be reading.

He glanced at his watch right as she opened her eyes.

Simultaneous thoughts ran through her mind. He wasn't looking at me. Its unusual for men to wear watches these days. More unusual for women. Like hats. I'd like a man who liked wearing a hat and knew when to take it off.

When she was sixteen she had gone camping with her friends who were desperately trying to lose their virginity with each other. This made a two man tent rather a strange place to have to spend too much time. They'd picked a dry creek bed to camp in. It rained. She got up in the middle of the night and walked into the pine plantation and dug what she supposed could be considered a shallow grave. She lay in it and pulled pine needles over herself and shivered.

Her fantasy was that they would find her dead in the morning from the cold.

You know how it ends. They didn't even realise she was gone.

9:52 p.m. - 2011-09-27

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