I'm Having These Weird Dreams •The Flash/Barry Allen•

Despondency

It's that true misconception of sadness and consistent build of emotion, that sits thick in my chest, wanting me to make myself cry. This mere misconception wants me to scream my lungs out and crying till I can no longer breathe. It wants me to punch my fist into a wall and feel the immense stinging pain on my knuckles. It makes me want to wring my hands and feel burning all over me. It makes me want to do something absolutely terrible.

But I don't.

And surprisingly it's the infamous guilt that stops me. The guilt that tells me that if I succumb to any of that, I'll be hurting them more than I have me.

My heart yearns for forgiveness, no; it's screaming for it, but I know I won't receive it for a long long time.

I'm begging for it, I need it to feel whole. I need it, or I will succumb to cowardice.

I want to cry and scream and throw a fit and feel the hot tears running down my face. I want to look like a mess and I want to feel the pain. I want to feel drained and I want to feel like the world is ending.

But the world isn't ending. It's at a breathtaking standstill.

The kind of breathtaking standstill that has me wanting it to move on, that has me yearning for seconds to move faster than minutes. But everything is so still, it's almost peaceful.

It's incredibly unnerving to think that it's my fault, to feel like I'm the one destroying everything. I just want to feel normal again. I don't want to feel like I'm giving up on myself.

But I am.

It's not going to change. I'm going to give up on myself and when someone will find me, which they will; I'll only just be a hollow shell of a person, who no longer will be happy.

And it's only now when I feel a lump in my throat, loading the gun that's about to be blown, allowing me to feel okay with doing so.

And it's only now when I'm screaming at a wall for a reaction I won't get.

And it's only now that I wish he was here, to show me that I'm not who I think I am.