Post by Lilly Starbroke Pierce on Jun 18, 2015 21:49:15 GMT
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It was quiet, it was dark, it was silent. Nothing moved in the room, not even her. Her heart did not beat, it only kept weakly shaking and throbbing. Just like her lungs, they weren't able to function properly. What was wrong with her lungs? It kept her alive. She didn't want to live, to breathe, to have to know you're alive if it meant watching yourself bleed. It just wasn't that the pain was unbearable anymore, the worst part it, she felt nothing. That should be relief, right? Then why... why couldn't she stop crying? Why did her dull bronze eyes sting so much. How her arms still felt numb even after having not done anything to them, but still marked with many scars, too many to count. It was a miracle-... or no, more of like a curse that she was still alive. That she still had to feel this, day in, day out. It didn't stop her from working, from bringing in what was necessary to keep a roof above her head. Because like it or not she had to help take care of 3 other human beings. She was so selfish. Wanting nothing than to die and leave those who cared about her. Was it just? No. It never was. But death was the only answer. The only thing that could make her feel alive. Unfortunately the only cure for her killed inside.
She had stayed awake for hours now, staring at the ceiling in the dark as sheets covered her lithe frame. Dried tears stained her face as she did nothing but stared. She couldn't feel the way her chest rose and fell as her heart shook inside her. She was cold. It was cold where she knew she was. Where she couldn't escape. Where the pain she endured was so much that it made her... stop feeling. She didn't feel her emotions anymore, she let them loose, for she couldn't handle knowing she had those scars with guilt. With remorse. Sadness had been an emotion that made her for too long, and now she had to let it all go to shit. Sleeping brought her no relief for watching nightmares unfold in her eyes didn't bring fear. Being awake brought no content for feeling dead when you're alive was only what she did. The shadows brought her comfort, when there was something that was as dark as her. There was no light in her soul, not anymore. She may have the one she loved laying right beside her, her children in another room close by, but how could you feel love when you didn't feel anything else? Where thinking your life was a blessing was just a joke. As if she would ever want to relive this again, ever find this pain once more, ever feel so numb one more time. Maybe she'd never stop feeling numb, because nothing good came out of her breathing, out of her feeling. It was never okay, who was she to fool herself into thinking everything would ever be alright?
She squeezed her eyes shut before standing up, hair shifting against her back before making her way to the bathroom where she shut the door. This dark urge pulled her forward once more, gazing at the scissors sitting on the marbled counter. She gazed into her reflection in the hanging mirror, seeing lifeless eyes, a dull glaze over her bronze orbs. She didn't see anything but a mess. An emotionless dark monster, no longer able to be called human. Tears swelled in her sore eyes before she slammed her fist against the counter, bowing her head down as tears slipped off her face. "Please... I just want to feel something. I don't want to feel nothing... I thought it would be better, if I couldn't feel, but now I realize that I'm too broken to have emotions anymore.... Is it really true when people say things about second chances, because if it is, then it feels like i'll never get mine." Her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper, gazing at the metal tool next to her. "I just want to feel like I'm alive..." She cried, a sob wracking her body before she fell to the floor, head leaning against the wall. Could she complain? Did she have a right to? She got what she asked for, love. But it brought no sweetness or comfort if you can't even believe that you could ever feel what it felt like to have the one thing you wanted the most. She saw this coming, deep down inside, that one day she would never feel the same thing again, but she didn't know that meant she would never feel again. Would she? She couldn't even tell herself that she had hope. Because she didn't. Who could ever escape this cage she found herself in?
Shaky hands gripped the scissors, staring at them for simply seeing her reflection in that metal material. That the only thing that could remind her that she still had a beating heart was to slice her own skin in half, like the disguise she wore would never be torn even with a metal blade. She didn't fear when she knew her mask was only artificial and that her smile was only one composed of fake emotions to please her family who could never understand what she was going through. Everybody had their problems, but nobody knew hers. Nobody could ever understand what it felt like to feel nothing at all just because the pain the scars brought had been so much weight. Her tears, only a matter of instinct as her frustration built up inside her like a burning flame and she clung to it like a moth to light. Except there was no light where she kept herself, the walls she had built had become so high that it covered the sun and brought forth a wave of darkness, a tidal wave of antidepressants, a mountain of pain killers... as if that could ever help the situation she found herself in. The hole she had dug herself. The grave she ran into. She could never leave, she knew it, it was clear as day. Nobody could pass through the walls she had made herself and see how badly broken she was inside. How her demons were only ones of pain that was brought to nobody but herself. She had to wear her mask, for if she ever took it off, she would only go back to feeling pain. She didn't want that, no matter how badly she wanted to feel anything at this point.
The wounds she wore was something she showed nobody. Because if she did, they would only be reminded of how damaged she was, like a broken vase that crashed to the ground with no support. Nobody could stop what happened to her, change how she was, control what she would become. Except for her. She had no motivation to fix herself, only to dwell inside this dark hole she sat herself in. Only in the dark did her mask slip away like it was never there in the first place, and her demons came to play, where she found herself wallowing in her own paper scars. For she was made of paper, so easily ripped, easily broken, crumpled, cut. She had stopped cutting a long time ago because she knew it would do nothing, the little stinging pain it brought didn't bring relief because it didn't make her feel anything. Nothing. She couldn't experience the comfort of hiding inside her shell anymore. Not even staying home brought her content. Nothing. She was nothing. She would always be this way, how could she change? How could she know that she could ever feel again if nothing even felt good nor bad? It wasn't okay. She wasn't alright. She could only make sure that everybody else believed it, because her pieces were too broken to be fixed. The only cure she wanted was something that could kill inside, so she could forget everything, she could forget everything bad that happened and let it go. But she couldn't. Not on her own. But how do you find help... when you were alone?
With Crippled Anger
And tears that still drip sore
I'm tired of feeling numb
It was quiet, it was dark, it was silent. Nothing moved in the room, not even her. Her heart did not beat, it only kept weakly shaking and throbbing. Just like her lungs, they weren't able to function properly. What was wrong with her lungs? It kept her alive. She didn't want to live, to breathe, to have to know you're alive if it meant watching yourself bleed. It just wasn't that the pain was unbearable anymore, the worst part it, she felt nothing. That should be relief, right? Then why... why couldn't she stop crying? Why did her dull bronze eyes sting so much. How her arms still felt numb even after having not done anything to them, but still marked with many scars, too many to count. It was a miracle-... or no, more of like a curse that she was still alive. That she still had to feel this, day in, day out. It didn't stop her from working, from bringing in what was necessary to keep a roof above her head. Because like it or not she had to help take care of 3 other human beings. She was so selfish. Wanting nothing than to die and leave those who cared about her. Was it just? No. It never was. But death was the only answer. The only thing that could make her feel alive. Unfortunately the only cure for her killed inside.
She had stayed awake for hours now, staring at the ceiling in the dark as sheets covered her lithe frame. Dried tears stained her face as she did nothing but stared. She couldn't feel the way her chest rose and fell as her heart shook inside her. She was cold. It was cold where she knew she was. Where she couldn't escape. Where the pain she endured was so much that it made her... stop feeling. She didn't feel her emotions anymore, she let them loose, for she couldn't handle knowing she had those scars with guilt. With remorse. Sadness had been an emotion that made her for too long, and now she had to let it all go to shit. Sleeping brought her no relief for watching nightmares unfold in her eyes didn't bring fear. Being awake brought no content for feeling dead when you're alive was only what she did. The shadows brought her comfort, when there was something that was as dark as her. There was no light in her soul, not anymore. She may have the one she loved laying right beside her, her children in another room close by, but how could you feel love when you didn't feel anything else? Where thinking your life was a blessing was just a joke. As if she would ever want to relive this again, ever find this pain once more, ever feel so numb one more time. Maybe she'd never stop feeling numb, because nothing good came out of her breathing, out of her feeling. It was never okay, who was she to fool herself into thinking everything would ever be alright?
She squeezed her eyes shut before standing up, hair shifting against her back before making her way to the bathroom where she shut the door. This dark urge pulled her forward once more, gazing at the scissors sitting on the marbled counter. She gazed into her reflection in the hanging mirror, seeing lifeless eyes, a dull glaze over her bronze orbs. She didn't see anything but a mess. An emotionless dark monster, no longer able to be called human. Tears swelled in her sore eyes before she slammed her fist against the counter, bowing her head down as tears slipped off her face. "Please... I just want to feel something. I don't want to feel nothing... I thought it would be better, if I couldn't feel, but now I realize that I'm too broken to have emotions anymore.... Is it really true when people say things about second chances, because if it is, then it feels like i'll never get mine." Her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper, gazing at the metal tool next to her. "I just want to feel like I'm alive..." She cried, a sob wracking her body before she fell to the floor, head leaning against the wall. Could she complain? Did she have a right to? She got what she asked for, love. But it brought no sweetness or comfort if you can't even believe that you could ever feel what it felt like to have the one thing you wanted the most. She saw this coming, deep down inside, that one day she would never feel the same thing again, but she didn't know that meant she would never feel again. Would she? She couldn't even tell herself that she had hope. Because she didn't. Who could ever escape this cage she found herself in?
Shaky hands gripped the scissors, staring at them for simply seeing her reflection in that metal material. That the only thing that could remind her that she still had a beating heart was to slice her own skin in half, like the disguise she wore would never be torn even with a metal blade. She didn't fear when she knew her mask was only artificial and that her smile was only one composed of fake emotions to please her family who could never understand what she was going through. Everybody had their problems, but nobody knew hers. Nobody could ever understand what it felt like to feel nothing at all just because the pain the scars brought had been so much weight. Her tears, only a matter of instinct as her frustration built up inside her like a burning flame and she clung to it like a moth to light. Except there was no light where she kept herself, the walls she had built had become so high that it covered the sun and brought forth a wave of darkness, a tidal wave of antidepressants, a mountain of pain killers... as if that could ever help the situation she found herself in. The hole she had dug herself. The grave she ran into. She could never leave, she knew it, it was clear as day. Nobody could pass through the walls she had made herself and see how badly broken she was inside. How her demons were only ones of pain that was brought to nobody but herself. She had to wear her mask, for if she ever took it off, she would only go back to feeling pain. She didn't want that, no matter how badly she wanted to feel anything at this point.
The wounds she wore was something she showed nobody. Because if she did, they would only be reminded of how damaged she was, like a broken vase that crashed to the ground with no support. Nobody could stop what happened to her, change how she was, control what she would become. Except for her. She had no motivation to fix herself, only to dwell inside this dark hole she sat herself in. Only in the dark did her mask slip away like it was never there in the first place, and her demons came to play, where she found herself wallowing in her own paper scars. For she was made of paper, so easily ripped, easily broken, crumpled, cut. She had stopped cutting a long time ago because she knew it would do nothing, the little stinging pain it brought didn't bring relief because it didn't make her feel anything. Nothing. She couldn't experience the comfort of hiding inside her shell anymore. Not even staying home brought her content. Nothing. She was nothing. She would always be this way, how could she change? How could she know that she could ever feel again if nothing even felt good nor bad? It wasn't okay. She wasn't alright. She could only make sure that everybody else believed it, because her pieces were too broken to be fixed. The only cure she wanted was something that could kill inside, so she could forget everything, she could forget everything bad that happened and let it go. But she couldn't. Not on her own. But how do you find help... when you were alone?
LILLY
PIERCE
[attr="class","gContainer"]TAG [attr="class","gbox"]Tag | [attr="class","gContainer"]WORDS [attr="class","gbox"]1,500 | [attr="class","gContainer"]NOTES [attr="class","gbox"]Somebody please kill me DX. |
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