The silence is slowly killing her. She spends every summer day alone, and she hides from friendly faces. Her mind is a dreadful place to live, and she can't escape. Her heart is broken — literally broken. Her chest feels heavy, and she feels physically sick and weighed down. Things that made her happy mean nothing, and the thought of death sounds dangerously peaceful. The uncertainty that surrounds every aspect of her life gnaws at her bones.
She's sick of this needless and irrational suffering. When she was younger, she was full of life and joy and she looked forward to every new day. Now, she only looks forward to moonlight so she can lay in bed, and she can sleep and forget the world and even have pleasant dreams about beautiful people and beautiful things that will never be hers. Waking up is her nightmare. She wants nothing more than to be herself again.
She will hide behind a smile and laughter and what looks like good spirits. She will do everything she can to convince herself, and especially others, that she is fine. She doesn't want people to think of her as a sad person, because that's not who she truly is. And, of course, she knows from experience that no one likes a sad person. But why should she not be sad in these circumstances? Is there a reason why she should be happy? When she does open up, and when that river running through her heart floods every so often and she lets others see her pain, they distance themselves from her. She doesn't blame them. Maybe she would do the same. They can't handle her, or at least they don't want to. They like to pretend that her problems aren't there, and that everything is fine, because heaven forbid they feel empathy and compassion.
She is sick of the world, emotionally and physically. She wants to heal. Googling suicide methods and wondering what razor blades feel like is starting to hurt her. Her sense of humor is growing darker, and she's been less careful with her words and she's starting to lose her caring heart that used to define her. How much longer can she last? How much longer can she pretend that her father's absence is okay, or that her social anxiety is no big deal? How will she convince herself that her heartache is temporary when she feels like experiencing another five minutes of this pain is harder than living another seventy years? How will she convince herself that life is worth living when she dreads the future?
What if I told you that you know this girl? What if I told you that literally all she needs is a hint of warmth and compassion and empathy and kindness? What if I told you that all she needs is a friend who can learn to see the storms in her eyes and the floods in her heart and the fire nestled deep within her soul? What if she simply wants to be wanted and spoken to? What if all she needs is to love and be loved? What would you do? Would you still run away, or would you be there?
This girl is me. Not only is she me, but she is you, too. You will feel the way I do at some point, if you haven't already. You will feel like quitting. You will feel like giving up. You will have to be strong to survive. Take my advice that I wish I could follow, but I frequently fail at following — reach out to people. Get help. Stop hiding. Be honest. Don't be afraid to show people your emotional and physical scars. But don't dwell on your sadness. Be considerate of others, even when they might seem like they don't care about you. Who knows what battle they're fighting? This too will pass. It may feel like it will last forever, but I promise, it won't. Your mind has an odd way of making problems bigger than they really are. You will smile your beautiful, genuine smile again. You will find your will to live again. Your sick mind will heal and you will stop wondering what blood tastes like and if the stench of burning skin is really that bad, and you will once again love the smell of lavender and vanilla and fresh, oven baked bread. Your appetite will come back and you will love the way chocolate tastes and you will love the unique texture of cheese. No matter what happens, the sun will come up tomorrow and you will be okay. Have the courage to look adversity in the eye and live.
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Excerpts From Unwritten Stories
Kısa HikayeHere are a few excerpts from what I like to call the "unwritten adaptation of my life," which are all too revealing but hopefully a little interesting.
