A Story of a Sad Little Boy

chapter 19: escape and weakness

People look for an escape from life as often as they can. Maybe they want to escape from responsibilitys or maybe from drama. Maybe they just want to escape from their thoughts or their Thots. Recently I've needed a escape. From people who have ruined my life to people making me have a reason to have trust issues. I've just needed to dissapear. From friends who said thy had my back then left me standing alone to the lies we tell ourselves daily. Escapes are what keep people alive. To much time to think leads to bad things. I've been proven correct, I've always thought that as long as I don't show weakness nothing bad could happen. I showed her weakness and now I've cried over the loss of an amazing person in life because of someone who has fucked me over before.  I was taught never to show weakness from my dad and to be dramatic and open to everyone from my mom. My escape is music. I've been told so many different things and it nothing makes sense. Without a meaningful conversation in over 2 months, I give up. I have to escape. Music is my escape. Either it be singing it tuning life out by blasting songs. The girl that has changed my life forever has left me alone. I could not speak to her or I could speak to her. What difference does it make. I need to escape. Painting is relaxing. I don't care who the fuck you are, painting is relaxing. No matter what you do on the surface, paint can be painted over. It's like life in a way. No matter what you do it can be undone but it's still slightly visible the bolder it was. I haven't always done the most safe things. But they can be painted over. I paint on my body whenever it's been a really hard week and I need to relax. While painting on skin it can just be washed off. I paint over scars, bruises and drawings. All of it momentarily gone. Books have been failing as an escape. I keep referring to this book as a story but it's more than a story.  It's my life. I have lived what I have wrote. I've felt and delt with what is written. People can't be replaced. No matter how hard you try people can't just be painted over. Fake smiles are all the smiles that I can give. The light is getting smaller as if I'm getting farther away. I was out of the dark for a while then like a piano falling from a ceiling, it came out of no where engulfing me in a constant fragile state. I've been busy so I'm tired but not because of what I've been doing but from the shit going on in my life. The response "I'm just tired" Is the same as "I'm fine" Both are lies. Both involve fake smiles and a sad human behind the mask. I'm not afraid to admit it. I'm broken. Shattered to the point it's barely recognizable from what it used to be. But I don't let anyone see that. I've been heart broken. But not by anyone in the romantic sense. I've been there most broken by the people I trusted the most. Friends. While having my palm read by my friend while waiting for the bus, I was broken. They mentioned that I was grieving someone and I almost broke into tears. I don't know what to be anymore. Should I be mad? Should I be sad? Should I apologize? Should I keep being made like that does anything? I've learned not to show weakness. Your enemy would take advantage of that. But I'm my biggest enemy. I'm broken and need to escape from reality and my thoughts. But I'll survive this. I've survived so far so I can survive some more.

HOWDY BITCH. I'M OKAY I SWEAR. THANK YOU FOR 200 READS. YOU ARE ALL AMAZING! BUT PLEASE MAKE SURE TO VOTE AND SHARE THIS FUCKED UP STORY THAT IS MY LIFE. THANK YOU. BYE -CHASE