DOLDRUMS [H.S]

19

Grace's pov:

*2 days later*

I sat on the chair and started writing.

Dear Diary,

I lied again. I smiled. When I look at my arms when I look at the bruises that I gave to myself. My own skin shouting at me, yelling at me for losing the war. It's me battling with own self. I don't know when this will end or when I can be back to myself again.

All I know is this is not me. Every night I have a nightmare of me and my mom, driving through the same road again. I wish I listened to her. I would do anything to have those thousands of kisses she gave to me, thousands of hugs she gave to me, her shoulder whenever I feel low I used to cry on, her pancakes, everything  I want her to be present around me telling me that 'it's okay not to be okay', that 'we can get through this, together!'

But she's not here, is she? Why? because I killed her, didn't I?

I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN MOTHER. THE PERSON WHO GAVE BIRTH TO ME. I KILLED HER. For everyone telling me not to kill myself, for Louis telling me not to kill myself, I just want to ask them, if they were in my shoes, wouldn't they feel guilty? wouldn't they find that it's their own mistake that their mother isn't alive anymore? She's not breathing.
That's enough for today I guess....?

I closed my diary and stood up from my chair. I haven't cleaned my bed this morning. It all was a mess. I plugged in my headphones and started cleaning the books that were lying on the floor.

In between cleaning my room, I caught myself looking into the mirror. I lift up my t-shirt to see the scars I gave to myself. Most of them were red. I ran my fingers across them. My eyes dart down at my legs, how skinny I am? Dark bags of circles formed under my eyes. I hate the way I look.

"I hate everything about you" I muttered to myself looking at the mirror. 

"Everything. The way you look, the way you talk, the way you...I hate that you exist" I whispered. I sighed and collapsed on the bed, thinking that how do we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering? Labyrinth of guilt. Labyrinth of hating myself. Labyrinth of regretting that why do I even exist? 

I wish that I was never been born at all.

I lost everything I had. I lost my mother. She was my everything.

"How was your test, honey?" she asked.

"It was....wasn't good" I replied fumbling with my fingers.

"Hey" she lifted my chin so that she could see my face. I had tears in my eyes. She wiped them all away with her thumb and caressed my cheeks.

"Grades doesn't matter. You practiced and gave your best, that's what matters. And I don't want some silly test to make you cry. Because you, my little princess is what matters to me the most" She said with a nose boop.

I giggled and hugged her.

**

I woke up and find myself having trouble breathing. I gasped for as much as the oxygen I can take.

I walk over to the bathroom. I washed my face, just another nightmare. I'm sick of this, sick of living, sick of everything. I wiped my face with a towel and opened the drawer of my cupboard. There was it. The only thing that loves me. 

I took it adoring the sharp surface of the blade.

'Your body is a canvas and this is your pencil'

'Draw'

'Draw as much as you can'

'Show how beautiful your drawings are'

'Why'd you stop? tired already? The painting isn't even finished yet..'

'DRAW!'

"Stop!" I screamed.

I looked over to my hands, that's true that I drew a whole scenery but not on a paper on my hands instead. I disgust myself.

I broke down and sat on the floor, with my knees tightly attached to my chests. I cried.

This is the cycle, isn't it? I cry, I draw, and I lie. This is what my life is. 

How am I ever gonna get out of this labyrinth of suffering?

I want to talk about it. Damn. I want to scream. I want to yell. I want to shout about it. But all I could do is lie and say "I'm fine".

The cuts I made are burning and tingling but then they make me feel good. My mind is at ease. One turns to two. Two turns to four. Four turns to eight. I could keep on doing this my whole life just to get my mind at ease even for a second.

Destroy what destroys you they say. So I'm doing it. I'm destroying myself.

I walked over to my bed and covered myself with a blanket. Tears still flowing down my face. 

**********

Your body is not A PAER DON'T CUT IT.

Life is short but beautiful, and they're many things you still haven't discovered yet.

YOU ARE ONE BADASS MOTHERFUCKER, BECAUSE NOTHING  IS MORE TERRIFYING THAN FIGHTING WITH YOUR MIND EVERY SINGLE DAY.