Quick Sand
- Reads 395
- Votes 41
- Parts 3
Ongoing5m
Last published Fri, Nov 18, 2016
"I don't care!" I said, a sob escaping my lips
"I-I don't c-c-care!"
"There's not-t-thing wrong w-with m-m-me!!!" I repeated, vehemently stuttering as my sobs increased with every word uttered. A lump began forming in my throat standing as my sob barrier.
"I'm beautif-" I fell to the floor not giving a hoot about the sudden pain on the side of my head as a result of the swift collision with the wooden floors unabling to finish my false words of optimism. The pain from my head, the heartache, painful words that were so reminiscent of my past by my oh-so-loving bullies- all knocking against the little sanity I have left.
Truth is, I hated me and everything I was made of which basically to me were folds of fat tucked under the layers of my skin. Always have and always will.
Cover by: @incendia- :)
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Beyond every level of her mind knew something or someone had overstepped or overstayed their welcome. She thought of nothing else for the longest, she pondered, she contemplated, she thought and yet.....nothing, nothing made sense. Or did it? In the many days that passed, the poor and desolate young woman lost herself, regained herself, forgotten herself, remembered herself, starved herself, fed herself, formulated her existence and yet shattered herself; in what was an attempt to heal, such futility is frowned upon. Truth What was truth? Was it something she even had knowledge of anymore? Though she functioned on a seemingly normal level to the onlooking eyes of the world around her, little wisdom had they on the onslaught of her own mind against herself. Self...? What was the self to her anymore? And so again, she got lost.......lost in her own thoughts. Or memory.......
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