Chaotic

3 am: 2019

Some nights. I kill myself. Over and over again. But I never end my life. Not really. I left myself swim in an ocean of voices like a boat against the tide and I let them tear splinters off and place them in my heart. I let myself hide under a blanket desperately hoping it will be enough to shield myself from monsters. But I've realized it's not the boogyman I need to fear. There's no closet to protect myself from. Because no parent could ever check for the demons inside of my mind. Not that mine ever would anyways. And I've been told that it's all in my head. Which is funny to me. Because yes it is but does that mean it's not real? I've been told that silence is louder than any scream and I believe it. The wild wars that rage in my mind get worse when my faint lit room has little back round noise but I wouldn't call that silence. I don't think I'll ever know What it means to hear silence. As I'm laying in a bed right now that I've grown to call mine. I can hear the dryer softly running and I can hear my fingers tapping but even when I stop and cover my ears I can still hear the mumbles running through my Brain. And they're not mine. But they're what I've created. I craved for a home I'd never receive so my soul created one inside of me. And like all good homes it filled itself. With different rooms and different people. I can hear the difference in each sentence and I can tell which one said it. And I know which one is reading this right now. And they used to fill this home in my head with anger and hatred. Maybe it's because the one I lived in had those certain characteristics. They used to scream at me. Tear me down. But no more than I did myself. I've been told that when you get told something you begin to believe it. Most kids have to Be told late In their life that there's no bunny that packs a basket full of chocolate. And no man in a red suit puts presents under a tree with his flying deer. And they dont believe it's not true unless the person who taught them that tells them it's not. And that's because they don't believe that their dear guardian would lie to them. But what happens when they're too young to understand why the same person who told them they'd amount to everything in the morning. screams that they're pointless and don't have a reason to live by night. They're too naive To know their own kind of beauty. Because no one had ever told them any different. And you know the quote "a drunk mans words is a sober mans thoughts" they lived by that for years until it was twisted and turned into a pitiful "If they were drunk. They couldn't have known what they were doing. They couldnt have meant it." And then I realized that things are always beautifully written until someone realizes that things are not always beautiful. And as scars cover bruises and broken bones hide the anger. Why only in her occasion would the words shot late at night not be sober thoughts covered in whiskey bottles pouring out of a human like a waterfall does the earth? Because It's destructive? Maybe if they had been taught not to believe their parents they'd Hate themselves a little less now and they'd cry themselves to sleep a little less frequently. And they are told that they're too young to feel the way they is and too young to decide who they loves. but they're not to young to want to end her life. They are too young to taste the smoke of a plant fill their lungs but they are not to young for a doctor to give them capsules of chemicals and tell them they are not going to live without them. They're too young to express their opinion and know what they wants from life but isn't too young to start the beginning of the end of their life. They're far too young to plan Plan a future unless it doesn't involve another person. They're too young to feel this much but not too young to know who they are.

*****
This is the last part written by me as a teenager.