ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴇʀɪꜱʜ

illusion of loneliness

not doing face claims cause i kinda don't feel like it, hope y'all don't care :/

january 5

early morning birds sing as the sun has yet to show its rays to the world. the sky is still a deep blue, almost black as i step foot into the cold beach water of san antonio.

i love the way it feels against my feet and it immediately calms me. i sigh, tilting my head back as the waves crash against my ankles and up my calves.

the wind blows and picks my hair up off of my neck for a quick second; it feels nice. as the wind continues to blow, it runs through my body, chilling my bones.

i like that too; as if i was simply made
of nothing— a ghost.

i come here; the beach, to collect myself. i have a therapy appointment in a few, which i didn't like.
though i have to do them in the mornings because by probably 7oclock i'm fast asleep.

therapy has always been apparent in my life, seeing as cancer doesn't really mix well with little 6-year-old girls.

it's hard, going back and forth with cancer all my life but i try not to let it mold me. i don't want cancer to be the only thing people see me as— pitying me constantly, doing things for me as if i could do it myself.

it's stupid.

i step out of the water with a shiver, walking my way up the hill of sand. as i finally make it to my car, i know that my thighs and calves will be all red by tomorrow just by simply making my way up that mountain of sand.

i hated how weak i was, overwhelmingly skinny, and bruising at anything that comes into me with even a little force.

as i begin my drive i get a phone call, it's my mom. she seemed to always know i was awake as if she just starts her mornings thinking about scolding me.

"yes," i say as i turn on my street, "why aren't you sleeping," my mother says "it's early."

i roll my eyes, it's always sleep sleep sleep.

stupid, it's stupid, so entirely stupid.

"i have to go" i lie, completely cutting off this long lecture of how sleep helps cancer bullshit.
i don't care about it anymore, if it wanted to kill me it would.

i hang up the phone before my mother can say anything and head into my home.
the silence is comforting as i open my front door, i always liked being alone, the silence, everything.

i loved it.

tossing my bag someplace i probably won't remember, i slump into my bed.
i stare into my ceiling, wishing— hoping that i could waste away into the pink sheets of my queen-sized bed.

i wished and hoped that i could live one day, one, without feeling like a total defect.
my life is full of random hospital visits, arguments, and tears, but not enough friends, not enough love.

not saying i am not loved because i am but i feel very empty, hollow,—sad.
-
head against the wall i hum a tune sung by some girl that i had no care to learn the name of. my eyes follow the people around me; i wished i knew why they were here, why they've suddenly decided to take therapy.

i take note of a girl, with dull and swollen red eyes and messy split-dyed hair. she has something in her hand and her foot has been tapping against this tiled floor since i've gotten here.

it's strange to me how that person is going to go in their car and drive off, we may not even see each other again. they have their own life, perhaps a family, maybe she lives alone with two dogs and a cat or perhaps she even has a pet bird.

i don't know

i ponder about the lives of strangers simply because it is weird that they have their own perspective, their own point of view.

they can form opinions and speak on things that they like because they are them. they are their own person, with memories and heartbreaks, and thoughts.

it makes me wonder, it always has.

"dawn?"

i cock my head towards the door as i hear my name get called, it's my therapist; mrs.amy.

she's a short tanned woman, with beautiful green eyes and chestnut brown curly hair. i've always loved her, she's truly beautiful.

i used to wish i'd become her but that was simply child me being closed-minded— she's much more than a pretty face.

"how've you been," she asks as i take a seat in the chair hung from her ceiling. she ask me this question when i've just seen her last week; not much has changed, my life is quite uneventful.

"fine. everything is fine" i respond, her eyebrows twitch as her eyes narrow.
"no bad thoughts— correct,"  she asks, i look off to the side; watching the trees blow outside.

i wish to be a tree, connected to earth, rooted, bound; everlasting peace.
but i think i may miss the peace of being human; though there's not much of it my brain still learns to find it in some things.

not many things bring me peace but there are some and i am forever grateful for that. i do wish the world would be quiet for just a minute, so i could find peace in so much more.

"dawn" mrs.amy says "no bad thoughts?"

"no bad thoughts" i mumble, focusing now on my fumbling fingers. i drown her out, i do love mrs.amy, she's helped me through a lot but at times i wish i was normal.

my brain can't comprehend that there are people out there with genuine hope and happiness, living life, being free of mind.

i envy those who have someone, something, anything that makes them feel like they belong.

"dawn," she says "your mom and i have spoken a few times since our last visit."
that makes me pay attention. i turn my head toward her, urging her to continue.

"well, we both think that you could use some friends, a hobby— something that will get you out of the house. we don't want you to waste your life away."

i shake my head "i don't need that. i don't need any of the things my mom says i need. i'm fine. everything is fine."

she gives me this look, the look everyone's given me my entire life.

the look of pity.

"there's someone i think you'll be very fond of dawn," mrs.amy says "if you wanted to get to know her, you let me know."

and with that, i was out of her door and back in the cold air of san antonio.

i don't think i want anyone, let alone need.

i am simply just a closed-off person, not looking for anyone to break me down.

1172 words