Stories

Hopeless

No one knows how I feel. I try to tell them. But they don't listen. They lecture me, telling me all the ways that I am wrong. That my opinion doesn't count towards anything. That I don't matter. Every time I try, I always lose. The never ending battle between myself, my brain, and the people around me. Always being attacked, with my defences shattering slowly. Sometimes I wish. I just wish it would stop. I wish that I wouldn't lose myself and hurt the people around me. But the people. Do they care? I feel like they do. But do they?

The questions always taunt me. I always feel like I am both alone and comforted. Forgotten but remembered. Will I ever be remembered? People already seem to forget. I feel hopeless and alone.

Always alone.

Forever is a long time. As if I will live that long. What would happen if I died today? Would people care? Would they talk? Would they call me a lifeless whore as they did all those times before? Always with the insults. It makes me feel. Alone...

But should I? They always talk. They help when I am sad. Then go away after. Sometimes I wished they would never leave.

If I did. Would it change? Would it help everyone if I didn't exist?

I feel like it might...

But I think I would be missed. Would I?

I might.

I am already a mess.

I am scared and scarred all over. I don't know what is normal. What is right or wrong. What is right or wrong?

I feel like it is the only option. But is it?

The numbing feeling isn't gone.

It only leaves for that second of pain. I wish it went all the time. I wish I at least felt something. I wish I felt sadness. I wish I could cry.

The ropes... They are cold. Like the razors...

Like my soul.

Is this the only option?

I feel like it is. But I don't know.

How do I do it? Do I jump?

The breeze is cold, like everything else.

The absence of heat.

The absence of light.

As the darkness of my life closes in. Is there any escape?

There might be. The long way down.

But I could try to get help? Anyone to try to help me?

Help? If only they came.

If only the help lines actually helped. If only the schedules could talk for hours. Not for the seconds that they do.

Always a new deadline.

No one understands how I feel, what I feel.

Always misunderstood.

I feel hopeless.