4 A.M. Thoughts

Melancholy.

Before she would paint herself with such light.
Bouncy hair.
Curvy figure.
Blush cheeks.
Tasteful smirk.
.
.
.
Now that everything's dark, things have changed...
Thinning, straight hair.
Bland figure.
Tear stained cheeks.
Blank faced stare.
.
.
.
The light behind her eyes has disappeared.
She continues lying to herself.
"Everything will be okay," she echoes until she's out of breath.
She let's out a shaky plea,"just hold on."
"Don't give up. Not here. Not now." The words pour out of her mouth like blood from a fresh wound.
"Make it stop! Make them stop!" she whimpers.
Once she stifles her own cries, she begins to steady her breath.

Inhale.
...
Exhale.

She's desperate to end the feud between herself and the voices coming from within.
The voices ramble on.
...
"YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH."
"GIVE UP, ITS NOT WORTH FIGHTING FOR."
"THEY DON'T LOVE YOU."
"THEY DON'T CARE."
"THEY'LL LEAVE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE."
"YOU'RE SUCH FUCK UP."
"CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT?!"
...
Hours later, she wearily lifts her tremorous self off the crisp, firm floor.

Climbs onto her untouched mattress and closes her stinging, empty eyes.

She needs to rest her aching mind and battered heart.
Sleep.
.
.

.
Sleep.

~~~

AUTHORS NOTE:
{{ Yeah, yeah I know "how edgey!!1!". Leave me alone, kay? I'm not a writer so I understand if you can't bare to read this horseshit. My thoughts and idea can't just reside in my mind forver... I need somewhere to spill them out. - Lost.}}