On The Other Side Of Silence

Chapter 1 : Another day Another Life.

It's another one of those nights when I stay at home,lock myself up in my room and stay depressed and suicidal. I have a lot of these days,most weekends,and school nights. This is pretty much the usual routine now. Not that anybody knows.

So I was sitting alone on the floor,in my room. It was cold.
But in that moment,everything else felt colder. People, and the way things are and the unfairness of everything. Nothing compared to what I was feeling inside though. Which wasn't exactly a "feeling". It felt more like an empty void. Like if I screamed into it that I need help, all I'll hear back are the echoes of my own pleading. Pretty depressing.

The faint light from the window lit up the room just slightly enough to make out the outlines of the objects. I stared at my hands,even though I couldn't see anything properly in the dark.

I shouldn't have cut myself. That was dumb. The blood was a relief, at least it didn't hurt as much as everything else did. It was stupid really, because cutting your wrist doesn't solve anything. I guess I did it because I needed to feel something, even if it's pain.

I was sick of feeling nothing all the time. It felt like I was dead, but I was still breathing,but it didn't feel like being alive. I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I mattered as much to people who matter to me.

I have friends,honestly,well sort of. Like, I have people to hangout with,and go to concerts with,and talk to. But I don't matter to anybody as much they matter to me. They have other people to be there for them,I'm not first on their list of people to talk to to when they need someone. Which hurts,nobody needs me. Not even my best friend. Sometimes I feel like I don't even have a best friend.

I'm never completely honest with anyone. I don't tell anyone every single thing that's going on in my life and how much I need help. When it comes down to it,I don't have anyone like that. And isn't having someone like that the whole point of having a best friend? But it got to a point when it doesn't bother me anymore. Nothing bothers me anymore. I've been going through all this for so long that I somehow managed to make it all okay,even if it's not okay.

It stopped bleeding a long time back though,the cut. I don't even mind the scar. It'll slowly fade away. My brother will probably just laugh at it if he sees this,and mock me for being an emo kid. Which is not even a proper insult,honestly.

According to me, there are two types of "emo".
Number one,the kids who are one of those lovesick teens,who falls in love every 1 week with different people and shares emo posts on their Facebook page when it doesn't work out. It's more like they want the attention. I don't blame them. More or less,we all want somebody to pay attention to us.

Personally, I hate the whole "I may not be the prettiest,smartest,most amazing girl on the planet. But nobody loves you better than I do" type shit. I don't blame them though,life has more to it than cute guys and breaking up over little arguments. They'll realize it soon enough,I hope. Life does that to you. Teaches you to be strong and all that.

Number Two,the people who are hurting inside but doesn't really boast about it to the whole world. It can still be understood though,almost everyone understands that these people are depressed and going through a hard time,but nobody can exactly tell what they're going through,unless they know these people very well. There's a difference between being emo and being suicidal,and people need to get that. That there are a lot of different kinds of mental sicknesses too,and anxiety disorders,panic attacks,ADHD etc.

Poets are emo. Like not in the dressed in all black with piercings and dyed black hair with highlights sort of way. I mean in the classy emotional kind of way. I find most poets emo. They can bring out the emotion through poetry. And it's classy.