This one is for you RANDOM28lol ❤
Sometimes I wake up screaming.
The unfamiliar sound makes my skin crawl. I'm already upset from the nightmare that woke me up. Always the same. Memories. The reality is far crueler than the nightmares my mind comes up with. Heart beating fast. Cold sweat.
Then there's the strange sound of my voice. The one I lost along the way. Traumatized at first. Then I couldn't find the words. Then I stopped trying. I haven't spoken a single word in years. I lost my voice.
It's still there. Obviously. Screaming on the inside. Trying to claw its way out. Some nights, like this, my voice succeeds to make a break for it. Shocking me. I sound like that? No wonder I stay silent.
I get up. No idea to try and get back to sleep now. They're imprinted on my retina. The ones I lost. Far worse than losing my voice. That was a choice. Them? Not so much.
My hands are trembling. I'm afraid to close my eyes. I don't want to see it. It's been played in my head so many times. I don't like the ending.
I sit in front of the tv and turn it on. Watch without seeing. Glance at the time. Two hours before I can go to work. Is this living?
They've tried. Therapists, doctors, psychologists. At some point, they all give up. I'm not going to speak. I have nothing to say.
I sigh and reach for my notepad. My journal. Writing soothes me. My unspoken words on a piece of paper. My darkness. My hopes. My thoughts.
Lately, my thoughts and unspoken words have surrounded one thing. One person. He occupies my brain.
I don't know him. Of course. No one knows me. No one talks to me. I won't let them. Not that they try. They think I'm a freak. I hear them. Loud and clear. They think I'm deaf. And weird. Well, I am. Weird at least.
I write for a living. Isn't that ironic?
Unimportant things. Celebrity gossip. I hate it. Full heartily, but it pays the bills, and The Sun was the only newspaper that wanted to hire me. I still don't understand why, just like I have no idea how I managed to get an education in journalism. People pity me. That's probably why. I hate that too.
I let my mind wander. Him. The new guy. Beautiful. Funny. Talkative.
I chew on my pen. Bad habit. Then I start to write a poem. The only coping mechanism that keeps me sane. Sort of. A way of dealing with my emotions. Sort of. Sometimes I just want to scream when I'm awake. I don't. I read the poem I just wrote instead.
Strangers
Thousands of people on the street everyone has its own story
everybody has its own demon
people laughing
people crying
some are scared
and some are fighting
My eyes stealing glances
of life from a person's eyes
some genuinely happy
some faking
a few fighting a monster
of their own making.
I'm just like them
simply a stranger
but somehow much more than that. Just like him. He is beautiful.
Stranger is an interesting word.
It might mean something
you don't know
something
from somewhere else
something weird
something surreal...
That's him.
A beautiful, ethereal, (short)
and blue-eyed stranger.
But still, just a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
Silence
Fanfiction@RANDOM28lol contacted me with a story idea where they asked if they could write the poems in the story. I didn't feel like I could write the story they wanted me to but I asked them to send me one of the poems. The poem inspired me. ❤ So I sugges...
