"I am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me."
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And I'm going to the house of bricks, so big and so empty as it can ever be. Yet. Yet I'm late again, I'm trying to take steps slowly...
one
two
Three
one
two
three
I know the consequences but, the pain is like a drug now. So, I look forward to the drug which I hope will end me sooner. Soon enough, before I set fire to the world which turned away from me like it never smiled upon me. Traitor.
Finally comes the doorstep of the place I used to look forward to. When, home was home. There awaits the silence. A silence that screams through all of eternity. And nobody says a word. There stands Emrys. My father. Tugging at his athleisure emotionlessly. Oh, how much I know the unmoved excruciating flash of the face that brought no change in the past five years. Perhaps I should pity him. But then again, what is there to pity when he brought himself pleasure and could never exploit, for some reason I wouldn't dare to care about. The door opens and the man in red tie is ready............for the dignity of being chosen to use a living creature as a punching back. To take it all off on someone's daughter. A daughter with a father who lets a man walk around with a whip and stays speechless. Of course, the one who set up the man to torture the only mere weakness he has, because rest? He finished off.
And I sit in my destined place. How despicably familiar it is. And this sensation makes me shiver to the veins and reach out where my blood can't flow anymore, from all the unshed tears, unspoken rage and hollow love. Now just nothing.... It's all just nothing now.
And God is finally giving bruises to my feelings that are forbidden for ears to hear and eyes to see. The whip slashes all across my back, giving a good slit behind my neck. I almost died at the pleasure.
Is it wrong? Is it really wrong? When all the slashes on my heart are finally just not invisible?
It's been since I felt triumph and I wonder how victory used to feel like years ago. But my insides scream in denial.
I walk until my room is in sight. It's been too less of cartoon stickers, scrapbooks and any kind of little crumbles that could remind me of anything everything used to be. Usually at night I woke up wondering if that was a delusion yet I'm not sure if now is a delusion. Perhaps I could have the privilege to think I could wake up and it's all a nightmare. My father could calm me down, pull me closer to his chest and take me out to see the stars and teach me the names. This almost makes me laugh how everything of these feels like the torn pages of a child's fairytale storybook.
It's so funny. It's so horribly fun I want to scream.
I sat down on the bare floor analyzing the same structures of the wall. I so much hope I find at least one thing different. But It's all the same. I may want something different but I'm so solemnly afraid of something being changed and that what I had till now has advantages.
I deserve it and I deserve so much worse. I watched them die. I watched them die and I have spent 5 years thinking of a billion ways how they could be alive if I was just a bit braver.
And I want to forget, I want to stomp and tear the signed papers where I am a father's daughter.
A father that killed the family and left his beloved daughter to cry on his ruins.
I walk up to a mirror, trying to touch the reflection I don't recognize myself.
These walls are Hella stubborn, I wreck myself to ruins here and.......it just hides me away. Maybe this is a good thing, but I wouldn't know. And I'm so tired, so damn tired. I'm so tired of being tired and honestly this stupid how everyone in this world is blind with vision and deaf with hearing.
I walk up to the stars, the only bright light that pierces through and brings out what nothing but pain can't.
And I write my own story.
She tightens her old threadbare shoes with pride. One step. Two steps. And she raises her hands as if a bit more she can caress those stars. And she does. Her emotions only take place in this certain moment, and when it does, it goes away midway through, never letting her finish.
And I'm still here standing midway if I can start, if my emotions are even let out, shown on my steps, the way I show pain in every move...why doesn't it stay?
The moon watches me leave in disappointment every day because it's the only thing I bare my heart into and the only one to watch me dance.
The only one who listens to the tale of the girl is so coward.
And it's the stars and the moon that empty my heart too. Even then, they are left disappointed because my heart is forgetting how to cry. And nothing. It's too full of nothingness. I'm just left wondering if I could ever finish the only thing that defines anything to me.
Damn it, girls who live with hypocritical fathers and murders their mothers are not privy of emotions.
I lie on my bed; it's been more than a dozen nights since I went to bed, and I hear it. And I hear it calling. And I think I should run to it before it's too late.
One of many of my father's big but empty rooms gradually comes into view. And I'm wondering, still wondering if I should go and help others kill me or stay here trying to kill myself. Then I realize...either way? It's the same. So, I let myself get killed rather than slowly murdering what's left of me into pieces.
