Random Things

Blood and Bones don't make a Home

"Do you ever wish that the person you love so much, would die?" 

"No?" 

"Because I do." 

I want to laugh hysterically. I want to laugh! But I'm left with a gaping mouth, that slowly turns into a twisted smile. All of those that surround me, find me hard to understand. They always act like they do understand. But their faces! And their bodies! They all tell another story. 

But unfortunately I still do, tell them everything. 

I tell them my pain, and I tell them my sorrows, but nobody seems to understand what I say. They tell me that I am too hard to swallow. I stare. I stare. And I stare. I stare so much at the happiness that revolves around me. I ask myself, "Why can't I be happy?" And nobody answers, but I already know the answer. 

"I am happy." 

I am dissatisfied with my life. 

I am dissatisfied with what I have. 

Why can't I be like them?! 

I cry but no tears fall. I shout but my voice falls. When I cry I shout, and it's hard to explain but whenever it becomes too much---I wish it would all go away. When I shout I cry, because I know I can't be angry. 

But I still scream and I still cry. 

Sometimes it's too much, and I want to die. But I can't. NOT now. NOT ever. I CAN'T let them win. 

"Do you ever love someone so much, that you want them to die?" 

"Because I do." 

They say that a home is where we grow, feel safe, or can be ourselves. But for me. A home isn't any of these. A home is just another form of a prison, to me. 

You know the saying were our seeds, our children, are the ones that eventually destroy our tree, our family? Well, that's where I say: "Blood and bones don't make a home." 

It makes no sense. But deep within me. Deep within my darkened soul, it does. It does make sense. So much so, it's scary. I'm scared of what I am becoming. 

"Who's there!?" 

- - - 

"Hunter." 

"Wake up."