Alone.
369 days since
I've been barricaded in a prison that is my own mind. Thoughts screaming at me and bouncing off the hollows of my head, before they disappear into nothing. What I would do to feel the wind slicing through my hair again and to be kissed by the suns beams. Oh what I would do to feel something, anything. My hearts been grounded down by the world that there is nothing left but a screaming soul waiting to be broken. Sometimes I check my pulse just to see if the muscle that controls it is even still working. The last words they said to me still impaling whatever is left of my heart every time I think about it. I try not to, but it's hard. I whisper to the walls and tear at the seams of my clothing, I need to escape.
369 days since,
I've been confined within these four walls, engulfing my self with the few good memories that I have of my life. To feel alone is the inevitable, but loneliness can't even begin to describe my situation. I wish that they would torture me with their words again and send needles slicing through my heart, because at least then, something was happening. White white and more white is all that ever happens now. Sometimes I spin around and around and around until I make myself sick just to see something new. I crave the appalling ending that is death but sometimes I feel as if it's just an unreal dream, a fragment of my imagination. Church told me that faith was all I need, all anyone needed, that God had a plan for me. But all that ever did was lead people into a false sense of security. The shattered pieces of what was left from me were never put back together by God or anyone and they never will be. That’s all I am now I guess, a meandering soul. My mind obliterates the white walls and anything beyond it. I live in my own world now, but still, I crave something more.
369 days since,
I've been exempt from the simple pleasures of life like smiling and laughing so hard until you blush and the rosy colours that fill your cheeks adds to your pretty features. But I know that to condemn pleasure is a dream way to unreal to even wish upon. I lean back against the cold white bricks, chilly from the absence of people, and I tilt my head up staring right at the camera that always watches me, watches me torturing myself in the very white walls that they built. Sometimes a lady comes in and leaves food and some pills for me to take, she doesn’t talk to me though. I can tell by the way she looks me up and down and by the way she's hesitant to even walk in, that she doesn’t like me very much. I never take those pills though, I don’t trust them. What she doesn’t know is that I’m just like her and everyone else in this world, I too, pine for the warm feeling of being squished into the frame of another person, that is a hug. To have my face cradled in another persons hands as they tell me I’m worth it, would be pure bliss. I want to give another person the power to break me but know in my heart that they won't. But that will never happen, my hearts too broken that it's beyond feeling. I want to be free of their last words and my past that creeps up on me wherever I go like a shadow, but some things you just can't change. I learned to accept that, and one day she will too.
369 days since,
I've been left wondering what could have been. My mind replays everyday I spent with them, I know it's killing me but I need to know what I did wrong. Their soft hushed voices ring through my ears giving me goosebumps. My red teary eyes and kicking legs just making them more mad. They thought I'd forget all these details after 369 days, but I didn’t. I'll bring this to my grave. My thoughts being the only friend I have it's easy for me to slip into another world and lose touch with the hell that is reality. The quietness surrounds me forcing me to listen to my thoughts. I don’t know whether I should scream or let them kill me. I speak my thoughts through cracked lips, in a hushed tone, “why?”. I've had 369 days, yet I still find my self caught in the same labyrinth, trying to figure my way out of all my thoughts, that have been strangling me. Why would they do this to me? I don’t get it.
369 days since,
my family diagnosed me as crazy and left me in this mental asylum to rot.
