Ever Bedridden

Ever Bedridden

Story #1

~Written by; Connor Ward

The warm, summer light pierced through the drooping velvet curtains, which hung silently from worn hooks. The streams of morning light brightend up the gloomy presence that haunted the room, and swallowed up everything that was confined to it. The slim bedsheets, which encased me in slumber, barracaded me in, they projected my body, my face, and my shame. Under this shield, between me and the outside world, I felt safe. I was all alone, nothing-no one could harm me, not even myself.

If I was to leave this safe haven, there would be no chance of me continuing my existance. Each and everyday, people would harass, threaten, and torment me. It was like I was in a war, their words where their ammunition, and I was the lone soldier. What this marching army would say to me, over and over, had began to crowd my mind. Now, I have started to believe them. That I don't matter. That if I was to disappear, no one would care, no one would notice. This drove me into the innermost sanctum of my thoughts. The deepest; The worst. My subconscious was beginning to convince me that if I was to end it all, my peers, even my own family, would be better off. But no, these are lies, filthy fucking lies!

The thought of being near death mesmerises me. The feeling is even more desireable. When the sharp razor blade enters my frail skin, I grin and weap as the flowing blood drips down, bringing me closer to everlasting harmony. One after the other, swathes of painful red lines slice into my wrist. They were embedded to my life, like a burden they are a faint cry of misery. The pleasure of selfharm sooths the hurt I recieve from the people that cause my ongoing sadness. But this relief of inner distress isn't nearly enough. The endless depression which occupies my soul, continues to stab away at my so called happiness.

As the days go on I can feel my presence slowly drifting away. I have no energy. I just can't take it anymore. I broke away from the refuge that held me in tight, and I looked up at the drooping rope that stared down on me with fierce intimidation. The knotted rope, which I had hung up eariler that night, was the portal to the permanent demise of my mortality. I shuffled along the rugged carpet floor to the tall wooden desk. This was the risen up passageway to the suspended loop, in which I will soon be intertwined.  

*

So as the warm, summer light pierced through the drooping velvet curtains, I stand on top the desk, confronting the hanging terror. And I know, that I can finally be happy. The fragments of this long forgotten soul, now lies as a one vibrant husk.

~End