Limitless Lady

Painful Prose

I feel so alone. It's not the little girl speaking here. No. It's the human inside. Sometimes I stop listening to the voices around and I try to listen to the voice inside; the one that nobody hears, but it's gone quiet.

I can't hear its whimpering, its crying or even its constant complaining. It feels like it's given up. Much like I did.

I let the flow inside. I let it flood my cells, pure water washing my veins. No blood this time, no blood this time. I let it pour out of my pores, my eyes, ears and nostrils. I let it erase my sins. I've only died. Is dying really a sin?

They said, be strong. They said, don't pretend that you're alone. But what do they really know? Little do they know that crying at night is painful and that writing at night is depressing, and that it all adds to my loneliness and existential worry- it's all too worrisome.

I want to scream my vocal cords out. I want it all to pour out of me- all the conflicts, the questions and the ready answers. I want to hear something new- refreshing. I want to look at the world beyond my small shutters and I want to stop scratching words off paper-to respect my own stutters.

Sometimes I bleed ink and sometimes there's no more ink left in my bowels, so I choke on words, thorns and ire. Occasionally, I write about joy, but when I'm being honest, I write about what's painful.

All melts away: my dreams, my hopes and the life I've painted for myself. Its bright colours no more than smudges along the shiny floor- once, it used to be shiny. I lie down on the mess that is mine and let my flesh melt into a colour, to blend with all that I had. I become I mere smudge along the oh, so dirty ground.

What's the colour of giving up? It's white, they say. I say, it's grey. I'm in the in-between. I'm with those whose fate is undecided. And I wait. I wait for the wave coming from Black and White, to swallow me whole.

I float in the stomach of the ocean. The water is heavy and roil, and I know if I lift my head, the air will be murky- all's too obscure. I have nowhere to go and so I let Death reap my soul.