Poems and Stories

Story #2*

Title: The Life I Lived
Feeling: Scared, Angry, Upset, Depressed

I've always disliked myself for some reason. It isn't full on hate that much I can tell because I can still find a reason to appreciate what exactly I've gone and done. However, there is always this small part of me that insists on telling me what exactly I'm doing wrong. It's just there no matter what I do. Always on the back of my mind. Always ready to attack me. Always messing with how I think. There's never a day that it somehow leaves me alone. Well, it doesn't always makes its presence known but the fact that it can strike at any moment gives my heart and mind uneasiness and fright.

I know I'm supposed to be strong. I know that I have to move forward but sometimes, I just can't. Sometimes, it's not what I want. That doesn't matter though. What I want will never matter. It always and will forever be what other people want and think. That's what matters. My existence itself will never be of any importance. I can be here today and gone the next yet people will still not care or so the voice in me says. I know that's incorrect. It's wrong of me to think this way but what can I do?

Noisy.

That's what will happen in my mind if I try to correct it. Everything will turn into chaos and the silence and comfort in my mind will turn noisy. I don't want that to happen. I want to live peacefully yet in the choices I make, whether it is believing or not believing, I end up unhappy, annoyed and angry.

The voice in me whispers, telling me lies as it goes and that in the end, become the truth as my mind processes them as what it is told. I don't mind or so I think. I end up breaking; the tears that I've said will never fall, fall. The anger that I've kept for so long, breaks out and I have no choice but to let it do what it wants. The sadness that I've disguised as happiness tumbles out and I'm left open and vulnerable to the world- to myself.

That's when the hate comes.

My hatred towards myself overpowers everything that I've been told. My kindness turns into something else entirely. Mean, viscous and closed, that's what I am. The mind that I've trained to think so happily becomes a void of darkness, sucking up negativity and keeping it there. I'm scared to think of the outcome for I've already destroyed everything that I can. My mind, my soul... but my body seems to remain untouched. Clean. Something that I am not. Something that I will never be for I am as dirty and as useless as the trash people throw away, never to be used again.

My eyes stare at the untouched skin, all the while my right arm moves on its own. It gives my opposite arm a stroke and I can't help but notice that both are so pure and untouched. I swear my eyes turn red at seeing that. Anger and resentment grows in me. This is not what I deserve, I know but a voice in me calls. It calls for me to hurt.

And so, I did

I'd like to say that I am hesitant with what I am about to do. That I am scared at the thought that I am going to use my own body against myself. That the nails on my right hand falters as it touches my left arm but no, it did not. It just keeps on sliding and sliding until it hit air. As soon as the deed was done, my eyes begin roaming the now marked skin. There it is.

A single red line

But it's not enough. The voice in me tells me to do more. More. Not enough. I laugh out loud for reasons unknown to me. But as I continue laughing, I feel that the wetness on my face has doubled. I touch it and realize that tears are once again falling and I hear a piece in me break. Oh, will I ever be whole again? A whisper. A thought. Something that I always ask but will never get the answer that I so desperately need. Once again, I am plagued by the voice, this time it is angry and impatient. Soon, it will be screaming at me for my disobedience and ignorance yet I still remain unmoving. I can't help but stare at the nails that I had used on myself and at the fading red line. Looking at the two makes me reflect and look at myself clearly now. The emotions that came and went. The actions that I had done. Finally, what I truly feel and that is that:

I am scared