Struggling every single day of our lives to make it, and to be happy, we slowly wear ourselves down. All of lifes tests and torments, beating us with the smallest of whips, removing only a cell at a time, unnoticed. We need not shed blood, become bruised, or show any other physical signs of lifes abuse to prove that it's happening. In our minds, and our souls, we hide the growing scars of needless emotional wounding and punishment.
When they told you that you could do better, be better than you are, dispite the fact that deep down you knew you were doing everything you possibly could, it left a mark, and it grew from there.
A small scratch, barely existant, growing over the many years of added bumps and bruises, for lack of having time to heal properly, is now a growing abyss.
Abyss. Swallowing and consuming everything good that tries to enter, or even happens upon you by mistake. Beyond the point of being able to reach out and cry for help, you let it fester, let it take over. You are no longer that person people looked at with sad hope. Hope. You are now engulfed in something else, having nothing to do with anyone else, but you.
You. God forbid anyone should happen to try to make you happy, or help you in any way, for you're beyond all of that. There is nothing left but hate.
Hate. The rage continues to grow uncontrollably. You no longer feel anything but an intense, feverish need.
Need. But for what? Clouded with everything and nothing, your mind is unable to determine what it is that may douse the fire burning inside of you, raging on, without pause.
Pause. Think...are you happy? Is anyone truely happy? Why do we put ourselves through all of this, only to end up with possessions, and a past which most of us are tremendously afraid of, or simply have no true consideration for that fact that we endured so much to get to where we are now.
Now. Alive, yes...but barely, hanging on by a strand resembling that that you might find draped between dark soggy trees in the deep dark forest, where so much thrives, but so little is seen. A slight light reflecting off of it's glossiness, far from enough to light the way, so now you must choose.
Choose. Should you go deeper into the darkness, and pray that you'll happen upon what you're looking for, even though you have no idea what that might be, or turn back towards the boundries you crossed so long ago, flickering with rays of warmth, reflecting everything you have already seen but don't recall actually experiencing. You were hiding before, searching for something. You found nothing but darkness. The familiarity of the slight glow that surrounds the darkness that has, seemingly, forever been devouring you, is not inviting enough.
Enough. Although there is an inferno within, a chill creeps in. Like a fog, just a haze at first, but growing at a frightening rate, much faster than all else you have ever felt inside of you. A sudden surge of energy builds up, as everthing you're made of irrationally, out of nowhere, decides to fight, to live. Then nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing...
~Jess~
