Six Feet Under

Six Feet Under

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WpMetadataReadErwachseneninhaltAbgeschlossene Geschichte Di., Juli 18, 20234h 13m
"Always kiss your children goodnight, even if they're already asleep." - H. Jackson Brown, Jr. I have been wide awake for 17 years and yet my parents have never even held my hand and let me experience what it feels like to have a protective father or a nurturing mother. The walls of my house have grown thinner over the years. The windows make me want to know what it would feel like to jump outside. The kitchen makes me want to run and hide from my mother. The empty bottles of wine makes me want to fight my father. Should I fight a bit louder or laugh a bit quieter? Should I beg my parents to take my hand and let me go or should I sleep forever just to let it grow silent forever? My name is Paige and I wish to be happier.
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Content Warning: This story contains themes of abuse, mental illness, blood, and drug use. Reader discretion is advised. If any of this feels familiar or personal, please know you're not alone. Feeling overwhelmed or emotional doesn't make you weak-it makes you human. If you're going through something and don't have anyone to talk to, you can always message me. My DMs are open on Instagram @thegoob_first. No judgment. Just someone who's willing to listen. ⸻ People say it gets better. That pain is temporary. That if you just "hold on," things will change. But I've been holding on so tight my hands are bleeding, and nothing's changed- except me. I'm thirteen, and I'm already tired. Not just sleepy. I mean tired in my bones. Tired of pretending school matters. Tired of dodging fists and fake smiles. Tired of being the leftover twin. Kevin was the one people loved. The loud one. The brave one. He used to say we were two halves of the same storm. But he's gone. Drowned in a river we weren't supposed to be near. And I'm still here. Alone. Sometimes I wonder if the wrong twin died. And some days, I know it. My mom won't look at me the same. My dad's fists speak louder than his words. And me? I gave up a long time ago. So I did what you're not supposed to do. I ended it. Only-I didn't. Because I woke up. Again. Same day. Same weight in my chest. Same pain. Now I can't even die right. But then I met her. Skye. And suddenly, dying isn't the hardest part anymore. Living is.

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