Got stuck in a rut

Trying to be some form of perfect.

Couldn’t stick to that schedule

Couldn’t keep to those plans.

It became a prison;

Stuck in a cell, the walls erected by my own hands.

It took a blast into the past

A memory; well, a few.

No more cells; spontaneity can’t be caged

No more stringency; free spirits shouldn’t be tied up.

My heart died,

After I lost you

And now I do not know if I want to try

Just one more time

The fire inside of me has died

How to spark a flame among the ashes

How to return to love

When it all has died inside

Yet, I see you

And I start to believe again

I don’t know what tomorrow brings

The past has become unimportant to me

I’m afraid to take this leap of faith

But I’m willing to return to the burning flames

I’m willing to return to love

To fall, to bleed, to die...for someone

Here and now

I am rising up to try again

I am afraid of the fall,

But I promise to not look down and give in

Give me your hand

Let the love inside of you

Pour into my own dead heart;

Borrow some embers for the ashes

One more time,

I want to try

One more time,

I want to feel those flickering flames

I am returning to love

It’s the choice I make

One more time

I’ll try to be alive...and not stay in this dead soul of mine

I’m that one

Who you’ll probably never meet in your life

But, buddy,

I think you and I will get along just right

Cause we seem to have

That special something that speaks so loudly

We have such fun

You just don’t see that happening all that muchly

Buddy,

We might never meet up, nor remember each other

When the present becomes the past,

But for now, let’s believe that this can last

Cause the sun is only now rising

And I am optimistic that we will make it

My third cup is not even poured

But I’m ready to take on this day and this way

Buddy, you and I

We’re gonna get far

Let’s lift our heads up

And take off to the stars.

You try and call me out of it

Snap me out of this evil state

Try to pull me out of this dark pit

But I stubbornly refuse to call for help

You say I need to get support

Just go see someone

Tell those who raised me to be who I am

But I straighten my back and rebel

You have called me stupidly stubborn

You were right; I am

I know what would be good for me

But I allow myself to fall

Stop building up the walls,

Stop kicking out the people,

Stop cutting all you have to pieces,

But what else am I supposed to do?

I don’t want the help,

I don’t want the cutting apart to stop,

And even when I do, I am reminded:

My demons comfort me.

Without them in my miserable life,

I could so easily get somewhere.

But, I know that I will fall in a different way then,

For suddenly I won’t need a rescuer.

Leave my demons,

They are trying to attract the hero of my story.

And yes, I might break before I am rescued,

But then I was the weakling.

I am an idiot.

A coward.

A fool.

Broken and shattered...

I know...

I know that I am falling apart more and more,

Every time that I don't call out for some assistance,

Every time that I allow another trial to beat me down.

But, my dear,

Diamonds aren’t formed when it is going well;

It takes the pressure, it takes the trial

And even if I’ll end up being a flawed diamond:

I’ll still be worth more than those stones.

Cause, I am still here.

Stood up again after that last fall.

Stiffened my back.

Got the soundtrack ready to play; today will be another trial of a day.

And when it gets too hard to take?

Well, I hope my demons will comfort me again,

Hopefully not decide to finally take my life.

If they do?

Well, what did I say earlier?

I'm a fool and an idiot;

Play with fire and you get turned into ashes...

May I rest in peace.

1) You should be able to cook edible food. No sea creatures, unless they have fins AND gills. I may be finicky, but I love food. Put the right stuff in front of me...and we'll get along mighty fine.

2) Be a teacher. You will have the excellent honour to teach me things, especially some CRAZY tricks. Will it be safe? Well...uh...It will be fun.

3) You must be able to play the violin, saxophone, trombone, piano, and guitar. In return for your musical services paid to me (nightly), I will sing for you daily. (And no, you have no say in me singing, because I WILL sing every day, and you will never be able to shut me up).

4) Be ready to accept all of my eccentricity. Also, know that my idiolect is heavily influenced by what I read and watch; provide me with what you'd rather wish to hear.

5) Know that I want a beautiful, flourishing garden. But, you will have to remind me of it often. No, not about my dream, but of actually tending to the garden.

6) Find a way for me to have terrific Internet and a way to evade bills. Yes, you may never mention anything about bills whilst I am in hearing range, you hear?

7) Do all the chores, except the dishwashing machine. I'll help by sweeping every now and then when I'm stressed (you'll make sure that I don't get stressed, right?). The rest of the work...is yours.

11 p.m.; who cares? Honestly, it seems like the perfect time to chat.

My brain is dead; you can say what you wanna say and I'll just nod.

I'll go, "Hmm...", if I disagree, but nothing else.

Who dares to start up an argument that late at night?

11 p.m.; who cares? It will end soon.

The shackles will clamp around my ankles again.

I will return to the cage, but this will be the last time.

I'll go in and leave again; gloriously victorious.

11 p.m.; who cares?

It is the end of my late nights, for it is time to rise up early again.

Exercise routines don't get themselves done; also,

The peace of the mornings only last so long.

11 p.m.

Guess you'll just stay a time in my mind.

We'll never be friends.

You are just some daily checkpoint; reached after I already laid down my head to rest.

Brain: “This was a bad day.”

Me: “Mmm...”

Brain: “Where’s our phone?”

Me: *taking phone*

Brain: “Let’s text our brother!”

Me: *willingly starts texting, because that is just the best idea ever...and, it cheers me up*

(And, in case that doesn’t work...

Well, there is always coffee and dark chocolate...

I mean; they make miracles happen, right?

And so does *whispering* pizza...And good music...)

[Oh, and my unpaid therapist! Conversations with

my therapist are just what I need to cheer up!]

″What’s wrong, Fidel? Did your girlfriend decide to ignore you today?” Harry Smith asked smilingly, as he passed his partner’s desk.

“Huh?” The dark-haired man mumbled as looked up, his brow creased, his dark eyes unfocused.

“You keep on checking your cell, and you are not focusing on work.” Harry suddenly frowned. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

“No, I am not.” Fidel Blakemore replied, as he shoved his right hand through his mass of hair. “My sis still hasn’t replied to a message I sent her this morning.”

“Wait, what?” Harry laughed. “Seriously, man. That’s your issue?” Fidel glanced to his friend, and then back to his phone as he started dialing his sister’s number.

“Harry, don’t laugh. You don’t know my sis. If she doesn’t answer quickly, something has to be wrong.”

“Your sister? That social butterfly you introduced me to on Friday?” Harry asked. “The dark-haired gal who garnered attention more quickly than anybody else I have ever seen. She has a very lively personality.”

“Yes. My sis. But, she isn’t a social butterfly, okay?” The call ended, with no answer having been given from the other side. Cursing under his breath, Fidel rose from his chair. “That’s it. I’m going to her now.”

“Fidel, I -”

“Hold the fort for us, won’t you, Harry?” Fidel sidled past his friend, shrugging on his jacket.

“Fidel, wa-” The door slammed shut, shutting Harry up.

Shaking, she pushed her ink-black hair behind her ear. Her dark brown eyes stared back at her. Losing all self-control, she grabbed the empty, coffee-stained cup next to her and hurled it at her image. Glass shattered, but she sat still; not moving. Just watching the pieces fall down.

Her phone vibrated behind her, and she slowly turned to glance over her shoulder. It was a call coming in; from Fidel. The paths on her cheeks were trailed down as the tears trickled down once more.

The vibration ended, but she continued staring at the screen until the light faded from it. Slowly, she broke her legs free from the crossed position that they had been in for the past half hour. She slid off of the double bed, but instead of rising to her feet, she kept to her knees and crawled towards the shattered mirror.

Her tears increased as the images flew through her mind again. The voices started speaking to her; mocking her, taunting her, reminding her.

“It’s hopeless. Hopeless.” She muttered through the tears. Her hand landed on something sharp, and she felt the glass cutting a sizeable length of a mark into her left palm. She stopped, folding her legs under her and sitting down on them. With her unwounded hand, she wiped the tears away; cursing as they seemed to multiply, instead of subside.

“I’m useless. It’s hopeless. There’s no future.” She started chanting it to herself; not that it was necessary. She already believed that lie. She merely chanted it, fearing the silence of her surroundings.

Her vision cleared, but now she saw it. The hazy images around her seemed to become clearer, until she could see the masses of people; pointing at her, speaking of her, laughing at her.

The rest of the room faded into oblivion, as one person stepped forward. The dark-haired woman stared down her nose. She looked down at the mess of a person on the floor; she looked with disdain at the younger image of herself.

“You will never be anything. I was a fool to keep you. I should have kept Fida. At least, she is worth something. What have you ever accomplished? Nothing. And you will never get anything of worth done. You’ll just continue being a burden on me. It is thanks to you that your father died; worrying himself sick over you and this,” her brown eyes spewed fire, “sickening condition. There is nothing wrong with you. The only thing wrong with you is that you have an overactive imagination that you allow to rule yourself. There is nothing wrong with you. But you’ll keep on acting that there is. And in the end, your brother will also die, because he’ll end up giving his life to see you taken care of.”

She bent over and pinned down the young woman with her eyes. Her lips curled into a sardonic smile, and the red of them captured her listener’s attention.

“You will be the death of us all. Unless...You die first.” A cackle fell over her lips as she faded away again, and the other visions became more prominent again.

“Fia!” A strong, masculine voice rang out, barely registering in the back of her brain. Her head fell forward, and her eyes caught sight of the shattered glass.

She reached forward and gripped the piece in her healthy hand. Holding up her left hand, she moved the piece towards her wrist.

“Fia!”

“You die first.” The haughty voice cackled in her ear again.

“I die first.” She sobbed, and dropped her left hand, but at the same time lifting her right hand up towards her neck. Her head dropped to the left side, sweeping her hair to that side as well. “I die first.” She murmured, bringing down the piece towards her neck. She knew where she had to cut. She lifted her head a little again, her hand hovering next to her target.

“The carotid artery has the very fundamental duty of carrying blood to the brain. When cut or severed, death can be swift.” The voice of her high-school Biology teacher droned, and his image appears in front of her. She remembered him standing with his back to the class, as he scribbled something on the whiteboard. “Death can be swift.” He repeats, and then looks over his shoulders, his eyes pinning her down.

His face started contorting, and her mother’s image appeared in front of her eyes again.

“You will be the death of us all. There is nothing wrong with you. An overactive imagination that you allow to rule yourself.” She repeated, which resulted in Fia closing her eyes.

“Yes, Mother.” She murmured, slicing the piece into her neck.

“Fia, no!!” Fidel yelled as he burst into the room. She twisted her neck to face him, all her visions and demons disappearing as the room came into focus again.

“I’m sorry, Fidel. I have to die.” She forced over her lips, but was interrupted as he fell next to her, pushing his jacket against the wound. He fished out his cell phone and speed-dialed his cousin.

Fia lifted her right hand and placed it on his left arm. She looked at him, all the love that she felt for her brother pouring from her eyes.

“You have to let me go.” She said, smiling sorrowfully.

“Never.” He hissed out. The call went through, and he proceeded to yell, “Fillip, I need you. Now.”

“I’m coming.” Was the quick response, and the call was ended.

“Fidel...” She murmured again.

“No.” He hissed once again, and pinned her down with his gaze. “No, Fia. Never. I need you. You don’t die until it is His will for you to go. It is not your place to decide whether you get to live or die.”

“Fidel...Mother, -”

“Was wrong!” He spat out. “You know that. You can’t let her words of the past guide your future, Fia. She’s dead. Let her words and her hatred be dead for you as well. Stop carrying it with you, or you will never have the opportunity to live; to really live.”

“I can’t.” She cried. “I can’t forget. I try. I’ve tried so many times. And they leave me...For a good few weeks. But, then all of that depression and anxiety hits again, and she reappears. And the demons come, and I’m not strong enough to fight them.”

“It’s an ever-repeating cycle; I can’t escape my own mind.” She blubbered out, crumpling down, as she lost consciousness.

“Fia, if you fall into a coma and don’t make it out this time...” he hissed through clenched teeth, “I will bloody well come down to hell and drag you out of there.”

“Why don’t you like Alice?” The strong voice rang through the quiet of the room. Monico shifted slightly, throwing her feet off of the couch and quickly glancing at her friend.

“Who said I don’t like Alice?” She finally replied, her voice steady.

“You do...you say it in everything you do.” His reply resulted in her fixing her eyes on him with a steady gaze, and her face softened as she proceeded to answer.

“Rael...”

“No, Monico, look at me and let me tell you what your problem is.” He vehemently cut in. A small shock coursed through her limbs as she saw a fire sparking in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Rael-”

“You are jealous of Alice.” He interrupted her again.

“Jealous?! Of that witch?!” She gaped and gawked at him, but before being able to speak again, and to fix the word that fell out of her mouth, he had risen to his feet and almost seemed ready to pounce on her.

“Monico! How could you call her that?” He asked shocked, fury tinting the darker shade of his eyes.

“What else is she, but a witch?” Monico shifted again, for the glint in his eyes started spewing red like a volcano. “Wait, Rael. Listen to me. That girl...She’s not who she is pretending to be. You are looking at her and you are looking straight into the mask that she has placed on her face; you are playing her game!”

“A mask? Oh, Monico...” He gave a humourless chuckle.

“Rael, -”

“Monico. Please. A witch? Alice? Gosh, girl, haven’t you noticed that she is just an angel? Those baby blue eyes, with a world of humour playing in those pools? Those little, red lips that break open to allow the heartiest and sweetest of laughter? Those golden curls that bump around as she swings along and twirls around and around?” The fire drained from his eyes and in its place was left a sweet look of peace. “And that clear skin...The perfection of her face...The innocence and...angelic sweetness...engraved into her features?” Chills ran up and down her spine.

“Rael, you-”

“Monico, Alice is perfect. And we...she and I...We are meant to be. I just know it.”

“Rael...Underneath those golden curls, there lies a mass of blackness. Behind those baby blues, there lies a gray evil. The red of her lips might be alluring to you now, but those lips carry the sign of the life she drained from others. That hearty and sweet laughter? It covers up for the maniac in her soul. The clear skin? The perfection of her face? The innocent and angelic features?” Her face was slowly graying, her eyes filling with tears, but her voice remained steady.

“Rael, it is all a mask. She is a mask. Everything about her is a mask to cover up for who she is underneath.” She couldn’t keep it together anymore, and her voice broke; the dam splintered apart, the water spilling out of her green pools. Her mouth quivered, her ashen lips suddenly reminding him of a bunny’s quivering nose. Something in him wanted to break, but he hardened his features as he turned around to pick up his book and jacket from the sofa.

“She is a snake. A serpent. A Delilah trying to crawl her way into your life and heart, in the least obvious way, and I fear she might have already succeeded. Wake up, my friend, because the day that she takes off those masks and shows her true self...That will be the day you die.” He faced her again, shrugging into his jacket.

“I think I have overstayed my welcome.”

“Rael!” She was shocked at his choice of words.

“I’ll see you again t-.” He hesitated. “I’ll you see again. Goodnight.”

She stepped back and slumped backwards, onto the couch. At the back of her mind, she heard a door slam shut. The warmth flew from the room, and she cried. Every single wall broke in her; it all came tumbling down as she realized that she had lost him, too.

Her best friend. Her confidante. The one she loved more than anybody else in the world. She lost him, before she even really had him, for she could not have him if she wasn’t willing to show him the truth of herself. But, so many times before, she was unwilling. And so, he lost interest in her as a woman, but kept interest in her as a friend. And now...That witch had enthralled him and entangled him in her snares.

Monico lifted her wearisome eyes and looked to the grand mirror hanging above the fireplace, opposite her couch. A face appeared in the mirror, smiling sweetly at her.

The red lips smiled so innocently, the blue eyes sparkled so angelically, and the blonde curls seemed to be tugged on by a draft that Monico herself could not feel. A small and delicate hand was lifted up and suddenly the vision grasped at her right ear.

The world fell silent, as her smile turned malicious, and the skin was torn off of her. Monico watched in horror as the blonde curls were shed, and as the skin gave way to a pale-faced woman. She was still beautiful, though. Her black hair hang straight and past her shoulders. Her gray eyes glinted deviously. Her red lips twitched in amusement, and her face contorted into a smile of sadistic delight.

“So...Monico...” She breathed out, her voice filling the void of silence. “You have discovered the real me beneath the mask. But...you have lost him. What a pity.” She snarled. “What a shame. But, don’t worry. You won’t ever have to face Rael again...Close your eyes, and,” she stopped meaningfully. “All your troubles will disappear...I am not a witch for nothing. I can make any small desire come true. Including that one you are harbouring in your heart now. To just die and fade away. You are,” she chuckled, “very welcome.”