Inkvite - My Collaborations

Constant Thoughts

Note: Originally written on Inkvite by 'Libanator' & 'undormant'.

Your sitting at your desk, you know it's time to go. You've said that to yourself over a million times, but this time you know for sure it's real.
You go to get the rope, or the knife, or the gun or just whatever you choose to use because your just that desperate to leave.
Then you chicken out, too cowardly to face the pain, afraid you won't kill yourself right and end up a vegetable. More importantly, not knowing if oblivion awaits you, or heaven, hell or who knows what fresh torture, for eternity. And your scared for your family. You know if you die now, THEY Will never forgive themselves. If you tell them it's not their fault, they will say they should have noticed or somthing.
Your just not strong enough. You can't make yourself do it. So, as I say, you chicken out, again.
Then the days go on, the drudgery continues, tick fucking tock, one day merging into another, was that last week or the week before? Oh, is it Friday I hadn't noticed, no, no fucking plans for the weekend! Not that I say this out loud. But I never have plans at the weekend. I just stay home and you know, do nothing.
I have ambition in life above my station apparently, I don't know my place, and in England people are all too keen to step on your head and put you back in your box. Dream crushing was a national pastime. Is there a point in going on? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Would they cry at my funeral?
As I hold the knife in my hand, I run my finger down the blade. Red blood starts to leak from my finger and I smile a drowsy smile.
I was empty inside. I had achieved nothing. A meaningless creature. All my life, I acted like I was happy. Like I cared. The truth is, I don't care and I'm not happy! But I can't bare to see my mother frown.
The clock ticks it's endless tock. Again. Again. Tick tick. Tick tock. Every time it ticks she feels her self die inside a little more and on the tock she remembers why she is still alive. Tick, sucked further into oblivion, tock, her family still care.
What was the point? Why does she still try? Who is she trying to impress? So many questions with out answers. Pointless. Everything is just so pointless. Then I hear the door open. Even if I was going to do it, it's too late now.
"I'm home!" My mother calls out.
I go about the usual activities. Time drags on. Days pass. The cycle repeats. Trapped in my own state of fear and self loathing.