Is there even a reason to fight back anymore? To try anymore? I try to explain what's happening. I try to describe how I'm feeling, mentally and physically. But you don't get it. You haven't been where I've been. You haven't seen what I've seen. You haven't heard, felt, breathed, learned, done anything I have. We're two totally different people in two totally different worlds. You're in a cold, happy place way behind current trends, and surrounded by people who love and adore you. I'm in a hot, miserable place that's constantly judging me because I don't know any current trends, and surrounded by people who wouldn't even notice if I disappeared. I could go up there; to your place that is. I could. But what's the point. I'll go unnoticed there too. The only thing you will notice is an extra warmth and less room in your bed. You'll notice more headaches and heartbreak and tear-stained pillow cases because that's how it is down here; down here in my world. My habits will follow me everywhere. They may get lost when I run, but they always find me in the end. That's why the end was so miserable for me -- so heartbreaking. Because I knew they found me. I knew they finally caught up, and I felt them latch on. I felt them feed off my energy and happiness that you caused me to radiate. I'm not blaming you. I would never do so in a case like this. I just think that maybe the happiness you bring me is making it harder to fight back. Making it harder to disappear where they can't find me. I've come to realise that it's not me you distract, it's them. You take them off of me for a little, and allow them to feed off you. But once they realise that you're not good enough for them, they jump right back onto me. It's like God, Buddah, or whoever the hell is up there making us accidentally poured too much of their food on me, and now they're obsessed. They feed off my stress, my anxiety, my fear, everything. They love everything you hate about me. Maybe that's why I'm not fighting back. Because they love everything that I am, not everything I try to be. They love when I'm sad instead of putting on my fake smile. They love when I'm crying rather than me lying and saying I'm perfectly dandy. They love my original state. But you don't. I have to put on a fake act for you so you don't get worried. I have to tell myself to act happy in order for you not to flip out on me. I have to remind myself not to tell you things because then you'll just yell and get angry.
I don't know who I'm talking to at this point. I'm talking to everyone. Everyone willing to listen, read, think, anything. I'm a broken, disheveled, useless soul. I'm done hiding my feelings. I'm done fighting my demons. I'm done acting. I'm done with the pills. I'm done with the therapy. I'm done with it all. I lost my fighting chance. I lost my energy. He's taking control tonight, I can already feel it.
YOU ARE READING
The Compilation
Cerita PendekA compilation of short stories because I didn't feel like publishing by themselves because it was starting to bother me.
