Lookism: What Am I Even Doing?

Chapter Fifty-Three Prt. 1

You know, my life before this was nearly as bad as I thought it to be. I think I was so focused on all the terrible moments of my life that I never had the chance to appreciate the good once. When you sit down and relive all of those moments again, you start to notice all of it.

Your life doesn't amount to what you've done but what you perceive to be. Maybe had I put a bit more effort I would be that much less miserable. Had I chosen to actually make something of myself for myself, then maybe...just maybe, I could've lived the normal life that I wanted.

A life without fear.

A life without worry.

A life where I didn't have to worry about being strong because I knew...that there would always be people there to protect me.

See, this is why I was so consumed in this life in becoming strong. I think I've always known that when it mattered most I'd be standing alone in the burning flames of hell. In the end, people always preach about being there for you. They have the best intentions but in the end, they just make fighting so much harder. Because now...you're fighting with a heavy heart.

With every fist that you take, you wonder to yourself why you ever relied on anyone else.

If they really cared about you then wouldn't they be here right now?

If they really wanted to keep their promise, then they would show up before you ended up in the hospital.

But the world never works out in my favor. The people that I've connected with are in no way bad. If anything, I think I'm just unlucky. No matter how hard I try, in the end, it'll be me standing alone in a dark room praying that all of this will just end as fast as it can.

Because hoping that the beatings will end is so much easier than begging them to stop.

Never will I once curse those who have failed me though. It's not their fault that I always come second. It's not their fault that as loud as I am, I'll never be a first thought. My craziness, my outbursts, my emotional instability is what has brought me here. The Kharama for all the bad I've done is finally starting to catch up to me.

I know I've never killed but I've hurt.

I've made a lot of people suffer.

I can only hope that they'll feel my apology through the tears that I shed tonight.

-

(Three Days Earlier)

There are no words to describe how I felt. It was like my soul had been shredded into pieces then crudely thrown together. Everything felt too much of everything. My skin felt too warm despite the cold weather, my clothes were too sticky, my eyes too shaky and dark...the light from my phone was too bright...and everything, everything, was so damn loud.

I curled into myself gently rocking myself into a lulling state but nothing would work. My hands beat against my chest roughly as if willing myself to come back to life. My head was sore from how much I was tugging at my hair. The palms of my hands from hours of rubbing against the dirty floor as I bent over, twisting myself inside out.

And all of it...was only to process...a single video...that I had witnessed.

People are so funny.

When we see it in movies we think nothing of it but I don't think they understand how awful it all sounds when you know it's real. Everything sounds so different in real life. It's like if you held a kitten in your hands and then...just...squeezed with every effort of your being.

The way its fur would rustle against your grip from the vivid little noises coming out of its mouth. It's all so terrifying. It makes you want to claw out your brain. It doesn't matter if the action kills you or not but it seems so much better than dragging around the sound of savagery.