A Collection of Short Stories and Poems

Silence

~May I remind you that these are all rough drafts that I haven't read through at all? It's probably obvious, but I feel like it needs to be mentioned again.~

There is a certain sort of emptiness that has been tangling around my lungs as of late. It hallows out my chest and fills me with a terrible dread that gnaws away at the flowers that once grew around my ribs. It's a sad thing, losing the blooms that once defined the very fabric of who I was to people, that happy, jubilant child that those around me want back so badly. I don't want it to sound sad, being who I am that is. I hate being sad, and I dislike that I feel the need to comment on it at every chance I get to talk about it. Perhaps that just means I should be talking about it more than I am. I don't want to keep shoving it away from me. The longer I spend shoving things away, the more I see myself trying to find that certain thing that makes me who I once was. I always bring that up, don't I? Trying to go back, trying to be happy in a way I can't even remember being. I suppose that is also the human condition -- trying to be the thing that nostalgia keeps trying to tell me was better and more lavish than I am now. Sadness is an odd thing. I feel it so deeply in my soul that I sometimes think I will never be happy again, and thinking that only seems to make the sadness bloom where I once grew those beautiful flowers of love and joy within me. I don't really know how to explain it, I guess.

I just hate being so sad all the time for absolutely no reason. It's not fair. I try to hard to be better -- to be the glow of sunshine that everyone says I am. I don't want to tell them that it's all an act, that the kindness I show is only because I have this urge to please everyone around me. When I walk in a room it feels as if I need everyone to love me all the time. I suppose that goes back to that trauma from so long ago. Well, not too long ago. I'm so young still. . . too young, actually, to feel such a pang of deep sadness for no reason. God. . . it's just not fair to feel like this all the time. I have no right, but, God, I always hurt and sometimes I wonder if living the best I can while I can is even worth it at this point. I'm just struggling so hard to find those that bring joy to life. I think it also goes back to the idea I have that whenever I finally find someone I love being around, they always have to leave in order to better themselves. And, yeah, I understand. I want them to better themselves. I want them to love themselves as much as I love them and I want to be so proud of them -- I always am so very proud--, but there is a selfish part of me that is just so tired of being and feeling abandoned all the time. Why can't anyone just stay once in a while?