Dear my friend,
when will it stop.
will it ever stop?
i hope it does.
even for just a moment-
for the birds to stop
the chirping and crooning,
for the winds to pause
on their way through the trees;
or the shuffles and sprints
of feet big or small.
what would it be like?
when the world fades away
for a single moment
and no pain or joy exists,
when only peaceful emptiness
How It Starts
I don't remember much from my childhood, I could never figure out if it was from repressed memories or if I just had a terrible time remembering anything. The earliest I can think of is the time when I was five years old, and going to preschool for the first time. There was a boy I became friends with on the playground, I can't remember his name, but he had dark brown, almost black eyes, and that's really all I know about him. I can remember the teacher, a woman, and how she always got excited when I wanted to read more advanced books from kindergarten and first grade. My parents were told that I excelled in reading and comprehension from a very young age. I could always read better than the other kids in my class.
In first and second grade I got my first 'best friend', a girl, Jenna, who had a nice smile and always had clips in her hair. We sat next to each other for lunch and raced around together. I never learned much about her, our friendship was very surface level, but she was my only friend and I was happy to have someone to spend time with that wasn't family.
My sister was only two grades above me, you see, so we usually spent at least one year together at the same school before she graduated to the next school. We were close, and as I was the youngest, she was fiercely protective of me. She would let me sit with her and her friends during recess if I was lonely, and make them be nice to me.
Anyway, I wasn't very good at socializing with people my age, I was often described as 'the quiet one', 'the good one', or better yet, 'the smart one'.
I had a dream about you again.
It was... I don't even know how to describe it.
You know that feeling in your chest where it feels like a storm is brewing?
Well my dream was a storm, with raging winds and fierce lightening. I woke up crying this morning.
I couldn't speak for some time after, and I couldn't make eye contact with anyone, especially myself.
I wish my subconscious weren't so perceptive. Maybe then it would be easier. Easier to fool you.
I know you're just a ghost of the past, but please stop hanging over my shoulder?
Your weight is too much to bear.
I know you know what happened, what I did. Stop looking at me like that, or I'll turn your picture around so I won't have to look at it every moment of every day.
Sometimes I wish you never existed, and you were only a blurry face in my dreams that I forget when I wake up. I wish I never knew what it felt like to cry so much I threw up, or be so sad and desolate that I tried going to sleep and never wake up. I wish this life were only a dream. I wish.
It's in the air, in the desperate heaving of one's chest. Yet to be seen but being felt by the passage of time. Look for it, scavenge and twist the bones of those long gone, gnawing away for a taste of it. So curious. A wisp of a taste of it lingers on the tongue, floating on the taste buds like the most ancient of delicacies. Grab for it! Chase it for eternity, yet shackled at the ankles by the earth, deprived of sense and driven insane by the very body you reside in. Claw at it until your fingers bleed, trembling and numb to touch. Scream with the wind, until your voice is hoarse and not a whisper escapes. Clutch at your chest again, there is nothing; it is empty and dead, a shell of what you once were. A dream of something and nothing at all, a thought. Now what is it you see, what can you feel? What is that sound, that smell? Faceless and thoughtless, it enters the mind, scrambling for a reason, a vice, yet there is what there always will be. Nothing.
The first time was an accident, the next hundred or so weren't. I had walked past a metal railing that had a piece sticking out, and it made an impressive scratch along my left forearm for a couple weeks. After a while, I noticed that the usual deep-seated pain and emptiness in my chest wasn't as overwhelming as it usually was. I began wanting it; using anything I could get my hands on, including my nails I grew out specifically for this reason. I hid them under long sleeves and bandages, and nobody was the wiser. It went on for four more years, without anyone noticing, before I realized it was only a temporary relief, and the gaping abyss in my soul wouldn't go away just from that. There was a point where I wanted to go further, but I stopped myself, and it has been a short three years since I stopped from forcing myself to accept that it wouldn't solve anything. All because of a little accident.
Being alone isn't just a feeling, it's a sensation that makes your fingers and toes numb, leaves you breathless with fear. You look around and see things that you know you can never have, no matter how hard you fight and scratch and claw and- it just is incomprehendable to someone who never knew those things before. You run away, hoping to find that one thing to release all of your troubles, but everywhere is always the same. You scream for what you don't know, plead until your throat is sore, tears falling down your face as you find that there are just some things that just aren't meant to be. It is a deep sadness in your very core, an illness that seems like it will never leave no mater how many medications you take or how many people you share your deepest secrets with. You can't escape, and you will ultimately fall into the abyss. That is what being alone feels like.
He screamed out in pain, his face twisted into a grimace and the blood pouring out from the cut on his forehead dripping past his eyes, blocking his vision. There was a pause in the action surrounding them, silence permeating the air as everyone turned to him, either in shock or glee; they watched as he gripped the sword’s hilt with such vigor his hand shaked. He glanced up into his opponent’s direction, blurrily seeing the twisted grin and hearing the bubbling cackle erupting from their being. They walk closer to him, abruptly stopping when he pointed the sword their way and muttered not to come any closer.
“Well, aren’t you the brave one?”, they spoke with conviction, “Your soldiers fall by my men, yet you have the audacity to raise your weapon against me?” He noticed that though they stood still, their handle on their blade was still tight, and their stance was solid as well as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He opened his mouth to speak, only to stop to gasp for breath and lean forward to cough out what looked suspiciously like blood; he paused a moment, then softly spoke,“I may have fallen, but that does not mean my warriors have.”
He glanced around at all of the fighters, who were staring at him some in determination and others in acceptance. Nodding to them all in respect, He used all of his strength to heave himself into a standing position, leaning heavily onto his weapon and barely managing to stay upward. He turned to his adversary, and beckoned them closer with a gesture of his hand, where he leaned in close and whispered to them, “When I die, these people will not rest until they have your head on a pike, and your soldiers defeated. That is my promise to you, old friend.” He stumbled back, and, tripping over his feet, fell down to the ground and could no longer move. They stared in shock, and rushed over to kneel next to their opponent, searching for any sign of life, before turning to the battle that had stopped around them, yelling for all to hear, “He is dead! This battle is over!”
His fighters stood unsure, looking between each other for a signal, before one narrowed his eyes and came to a decision. This one raised his sword in the air, bellowing out, “For Our Leader! For Our Kingdom!”
Everyone followed suite, charging to resume the battle, the sound of metal clashing against metal filling the air, and the cry as more soldiers fell by the second. This continued for some time, until the last soldier fell, and the victors continued standing tall.One lone soldier stood admist the destruction, They breathed a sigh, tasting the metallic blood in the atmosphere, and limped to the first body of the Leader, His eyes closed in eternal peace. They gazed down in contempt, before turning Their sight to the distant horizon, the indesribable colors blending and melding to create an instant masterpiece. They turned away from the body, walking away from the scene, along with any surviving warriors. Together they trudged along, past the frozen battlefield, and into uncertainty.
"Until we meet again, Old Friend." They said, their voice carried by the wind, then disappearing into air, leaving the area silent once more.
I close my eyes. They sting so I reopen them, I look through blurred vision.
/breathe in for 4, out for 8/
I try to keep my hold on my pen, but it's like a 50 lb weight in my hand, so I put in down and reread my report.
/find 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch/
My breathing becomes shakier and quicker, am I dying? This must be it for me.
I'm sorry Mrs. Birch, I didn't mean to steal your candy when I was in your class. And why didn't I turn in my apron from my last job, they must be so mad at me...
I try to stand but my legs are jelly and I fall right back into my chair, I can feel their stares, I know they're staring. please, pleasepleaseplease stop STARING AT ME!
/look for 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell/
Fingers turning numb, my vision blacks out, I have to get out of hear, this is a disaster zone. I can't breathe, I think I'm falling asleep, maybe then I won't wake up.. and face these terible people, don't they know staring is rude... what was i saying?.. i cant remember..
My sight turns dark.
/1 thing you can taste/
Empty, and hollow. Rare should I feel content and, dare I say, happy.
Some days are better than others, but I silently persevere through the tide
of life, by myself.
fingers clenched, gasping,
chasing ethereal waves,
peripherals dodging truth,