Sleep. It's not a safe haven. You don't dream about someone helping you. About not hating yourself. You dream about all those harsh words, those barely audible whispers you pick up. All negative, mind you, not a single one positive. The negative is easy to capture, yet hard to let go, it leaves a scar on your mind, you hear it repeatedly. Especially in your dreams. The positive? You never hear that. All you can focus on is the negative, and by then your already too deep to get yourself out. When you do hear the positive you hold it. Tight. You think about it every time you want to....well. we all know. It doesn't need to be said. But that grasp weakens. It doesn't stay strong like you need it to. And then it starts again. That negative. Like a ceaseless drum. Beating a rhythm of pain. Then you need to take control. Of the pain. And there's only two ways to do that. Death. Or. Blade.
YOU ARE READING
False Sense
Non-FictionMy view. Not pointing fingers. Nor any deep meaning. Just a general description. Understand. Don't change. GROW
