To Whom It May Concern (Fransykes)

Chapter 7; my worst enemy (my head)

I don't know what I expected from myself. Because I was supposed to find a way right after they left. I was supposed to be gone right after I was left alone. So why, in this hell forsaken life, was I in bed, staring at my ceiling instead? I didn't know why. But I was here. And I was alone. And I had my chance. I didn't take my chance.

I should've taken my motherfucking chance. Instead; I now lie in my bed, weeping about the patheticness of my damn existence.

Fucking ridiculous. I'm fucking pathetic. I should be fucking dead. 

This is so tiring. I'm so tiring. Can't I just breathe normally for once? No, I guess not. Would I ever be able to breathe normally someday?

Guess not. 

It doesn't take long before my family gets home. Elissa comes to my room at some point and tells me everything about her day and I do my best to show her any type of interest, although her words are mindless chatter and my ears buzz with static noise and my eyes feel slurred out. But I have to admit that seeing her face lit up with life grants me some sort of comfort.

I know better than to rely on a child for comfort. It should be the other way around. She should be able to rely on me more. I should have been here for her more than I have.

I hope she finds a friend to rely on when I'm gone. I really hope she finds someone that'll have her back. I'm not religious but I pray that... I pray that she doesn't have to be alone like I have always been.

Please, I just want her to be happy. 

I wish there was something I could do. Alas, life doesn't work like that. And it hurts because I truly have to be a sensitive little bitch. So of course I have to complain about it like a stupid fucking cunt.

I swear that I never wanted to be like this. I'm so sorry that you're witnessing it. I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry. 

I want to cry. 

I don't. My kid shouldn't witness one of my breakdowns. Instead, I wait. The sun goes down in a blur for me. Time feels so odd, something I have always found hard to grasp. But when I do manage to get a hold of myself, it's dark out. I don't know what is it with me and nighttime. It's just the safest time. The best time, the only one I can feel the itch in my throat cease. The only time I can feel a little of the heaviness blending within the background.

It's the only time I can stop holding my breath. 

But that doesn't mean shit sometimes. I still can't breathe sometimes. I'm still stuck, still falling, still feeling the tugs in every inch of my cells dragging me down down down, nearly meeting the devil, diving into the pit of the centre of the earth, still. Still fucking. Killing me.

And tonight just so happens to be one of those nights. Tonight is a night where failure dangles from my neck. Tonight is just... Just a night where I feel my mistakes. Tonight is a night that has me leaning backwards into my head. It's a night where I spiral and end up doing stupid shit.

Tonight is the same as last night. Tonight is the same as the previous weeks. Every night lately has been tonight.

But it doesn't have to be. I have outlets. I have selfish reasons. I have everything I could need to end this bullshit.

I don't like to leave my house at night but tonight. Tonight I'm allowed. Tonight, my room is not so safe anymore.

I wish I had somewhere safe.

I leave the house and get my keys and I'm really fucking silent because maybe there's a reason I'm a ghost to everyone else and it really is handy tonight. I wander and end up walking in the cold nippy air of September to the same damn river in the same fucking blur as every time in my life has been.