⚠️ T/W: suicide, self- harm, descriptions of violence, dark thoughts ⚠️
WARNING: DO NOT TRY ANY OF THE FOLLOWING ACTIONS AT HOME. THESE STUNTS WERE PERFORMED/WRITEN BY AN UNSTABLE PERSON AND COULD RESULT IN INJURY, DEATH OR WORSE; SURVIVAL WHEN ATTEMPTED.
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Heavy footsteps, pounding on the cold stone floor, match the rhythmic beat of my pounding heart. My plan is set, my mind is made, but still the buzzing sting of unfocused guilt sits deep in my bones. But far stronger is the all consuming ache that comes from being constantly battered by the sharp touch of society.
Living in a world where you are completely alone is entirely isolating. Having nothing and no one yet being forced to watch as cheerful people go about their happy lives is an extremely painful thing to endure.
Sitting alone is a peaceful thing, when the action is chosen. When it is forced upon someone however, it becomes a lonesome experience. At least that's how it feels as I fall to my shaking knees in an entirely too small bathroom, the silvery shards of a smashed mirror raining down around my sobbing figure.
My vision blurred as I stumbled to my feet, reaching carelessly for the small pile of sharp razors that's lay in my cracked sink. Picking one at random, I slumped back down onto the cold tiled floor.
For a while I just sat there, trembling yet mesmerised by the power such a small piece of metal could hold. How was it that something so small could do so much in so little time?
And then the moment ended, my thoughts clouded again and I brought the blade to my shaking arm, slicing deeper and deeper through my pale skin.
Blood dripped like sand from a crimson hourglass, each drop counting down the dwindling time I had left on this morbid planet.
The previously deafening thoughts that were rushing around my mind, overlapping each other, slowly slip away, leaving my spinning head blissfully empty.
I felt my spirit soar in those wondrous minutes that followed, painting everything a beautiful deep red as thick blood seeped seemingly endlessly from my worn body. The blissful feeling of finally being free of all burdens, free of being one myself was so sweet to me, I never wanted to feel anything else.
As the end finally drew near I dragged myself to the huge glass doors that lead to my tiny balcony and I watched peacefully as the sun rose on a new day, and set on my painful life.
The searing pain my self inflicted Wounds caused me was dangerously grounding yet at the same time I had never felt further from reality.
In the last few moments of darkness I was flooded with every emotion I hadn't felt in years, I wanted to leap and run with the vigorous, burning joy I suddenly felt, yet also curl into a tight ball and cry until I couldn't possibly shed another tear in response to the icy sadness that filled my rapidly emptying veins.
And so the sun finally started streaming in through my small apartment filling the world with warming light and the small flame of my feeble existence finally extinguished.
As my body lay pooled in my own blood, my mind finally raced away from the cruel existence id been forced into for so long. I was, as I'd wished to be for so long, finally free.
YOU ARE READING
Happiness is the saddest illusion
General FictionEveryone leaves eventually. It's just hard to come to terms with it sometimes. This will be a book of one shots involving people dying. That's it. Don't read if it's going to be triggering. *none of the art used is mine*
