Thoughts, Story Ideas, And More

Pain

Pain.
That's was all I felt when I woke up.

Pain.
Is what I felt for days.

But that didn't stop me
I didn't dwell on my misfortune.
I rose up to the challenge.

I pushed myself until I was up and standing,
Then I pushed farther, until I was sitting in a chair and out of that horrible bed.

A few days after that, I was out of that bed and into a better room.
I could walk around, watch TV, have peolpe come and visit me, I was. . . . . free.

A week or so stuck in that room, my birthday passed, only one friend came.
I was alone, I hated being alone.

I would get up and walk the halls at night, wanting time to think.
I was funny. In the other room, where I couldn't leave the bed, all I wanted was to die.
The pain that I felt, everyone worrying about me, doing things for me, I hated it.

Now, I'm alive and well, mostly.
My mind hasn't been the same since those days.
My colors faded quickly after getting home.

Bright and sparkly clothes? No thanks.
Dresses and skirts? Well, I've always hated them.
Almost anything other than dark or monochromatic colors? Nah, not my style.

I'm a black Nightingale in a flower bed full of bright and friendly flowers.
I'm dark and dangerous.
The pain I cause others when they get too close or stay too long, it's the pain I felt back in those days.

Now almost 2 years later, darker, more faded away. People watched me as continued to fade, my colors disappearing and growing dark, yet none of them did anything to help me.
No one wants to help something that's already dead, right?

But, the thing is, I'm not dead, not yet that is.
Sure I joke about being dead, but the truth is, I haven't really felt much in a long time.
I have anxiety, more pain. Went through depression, mental pain.

Pain is the one thing I know all too well.
The pain of getting physically hurt.
The pain of losing a loved one.
The pain of friends turning their backs on me.

Pain is strong enough to be my friend that never completely goes away.