Short Stories for Writing Class

Venting to Nobody

   They say wounds heal with time, but I don't believe it. It's been too long. Does it still count if you're talking about your mind? Mine's been screwed up for a long time. How much longer do things need to stay this way? Is there no changing what I've done? Is there any hope for me? Don't you know that I'm trying my best. I'm sure it doesn't seem like it, but its true. What will it take to make you happy? Nothing is ever good enough. What's the point in everything I've done, it's gotten me nowhere. Everything I thought I accomplished was a failure, but I still do what I can, because that's all I can do. What do you want me to do, apologize? 'Cuz that's not gonna happen, not yet.

    Where's the justification? Haven't I served my time? I know what I've done, but it's been so long. When are you going to open up and give me answers? You've been giving me the silent treatment my whole life. You punished me, but you've never even spoken to me. How can I be sure you really even know me? Do you care that I stare at my ceiling at night wondering where it all went wrong. I don't want to sit in silence. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. Do you remember me? Do you hate me like I hate me? Tell me why do I suddenly care now? I never had a problem repressing the regret before, but I guess sitting alone in the dark will do that to someone as messed up as me. There's been plenty of times where I was here when I wished I wasn't. Who's the one that thought putting me here was a good idea in the first place? I can't be expected to fix everything myself. 

   My head's gone paralyzed. I never know the right things to say. My brain and my mouth aren't friends. I thought I was done writing in journals that no one is ever gonna read. What's the point if no one is listening? We've done this before, but every time it's a one sided conversation. I'm just venting, filling up the pages with my misery, but I wish there was no need. Is this my suffering, to endlessly question my past decisions without reaching a conclusion or will I ever get some kind of relief? Can you see me now and the words I etch on this page? I hope not. You're going to take away my privacy the one time I don't want your attention. I'm supposed to have faith, I'm supposed to be praying, but I can't go into a church without you burning my feet. 

   I can go a few more days or I can go a few more years, but is anything ever going to change? Should I expect anything different before my time is up or is that part of my punishment? You and time are holding me in a frozen prison. It's been too many years and life's only gotten worse. You know what I've done. I can't forget it and seemingly neither can you. You can do so much, so why can't you wipe my slate clean? I know you've already given me a second chance and a third, but you don't lose anything by giving me another. 

   Why are things so bad? I try to suppress my emotions, I try to keep those memories at bay, but nothing ever helps.  I have to put on multiple masks to get through each day. Who do I need to impress this time? Won't you give me some sort of escape? I need these thoughts to go away. I feel so numb, yet so angry and miserable at the same time. I don't even understand how that's possible. Why won't you let me feel something else? I can't even remember the last time I felt truly happy doing something I enjoy. What do I enjoy? What do I want to do with myself? I don't know. The person I once was got lost a long time ago. Can that part of me ever come back? Is there any hope in believing that? 

   Shit, now I feel like I'm just repeating myself. Are you ever going to set me free? I can't keep waiting for you, you should've given me an answer by now. How much longer are you going to make me wait? Do you want me to beg? You're supposed to be the one who listens, but you keep ignoring me. Why do you keep making me ask so many questions? You're the only withholding information, but how do I bribe someone who has everything. You have everything, so why can't you give me something? Earlier I shattered my mirror, who is gonna pay for a replacement? How about I pick what I want then send you the bill. I deserve that much at least. Are you going to send that away, just like me? Are you ever going to come knocking on my door, instead of me trying to kick yours down? You made me didn't you, so why cant you give me what's best? Forget it, I don't even know why I'm wasting my time. There's no point in writing, this is just another book I'm going to burn eventually.