A place basically for me to just clear my head. It probably doesn't really belong in this section of the forum, but it's here. Read if you want to, but I wouldn't advise it. It's just a thread containing my deepest 3am thoughts.
Where did it start? What made me fall for you? I don't really know.
Maybe it was that half smile of yours, or the way that your laugh lights up your face as well as the room that you're in. Perhaps it was the way that it was so easy to talk to you about anything and everything. Your love for dogs didn't hurt. The way that you talk about the things that you love and care about.... I could listen to you go on all day about it.
I'm not sure why I'm writing this. You'll never see it. But if you did, by some miracle, you'd know that I was talking to you. Because you are the only one that I want to talk to. The person that I need to talk to. The only person that I care for. And honestly, that scares me. Because one day, there is going to come a time where you will get tired of me pushing your buttons. A day where you wake up and realize that I'm not worthy of a second of your time. And I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you.
Every waking moment of my day is filled with the though of you. My nightmares are filled with losing you - in some way, shape or form. I couldn't bear it. I can't bear it. Waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets kicked off my bed, screaming, but no sound coming from my throat. I'd never want you to see me like that. Ever. Hence why I keep things bottled up inside of me. I don't want my demons to consume you like they have me. I've seen the way that you act when I tell you these things; heard the panic in your voice. I want to protect you from me, of all things. So why is it that I keep letting you get closer and closer? Why don't I just push you away? Sometimes I think that would be better.
It's currently one in the morning as I slide my fingers quietly across the keyboard, careful as to not make any noise. The dog sleeps at the foot of my bed, and the house is quiet except for the gentle clicking of the keys. My room is quiet, dimly lit from the light of my laptop. I'm not sure why I can't sleep. I don't seem to be doing much of it lately. My thoughts are consumed by that of which I can barely explain to myself, much less anyone else.
I get up and walk across the cool floor, opening the blinds as I look at the moon and stars - a sight that has always comforted me. I wonder if you ever did the same. Look up at the sky and think of me, I mean? Truth to be told, you probably don't think of me no where near as much as I do you.
There are a million things that I want to say. Could say. Need to say. To clear the air and my mind. The truth is, I know I've all but lost you. You were, and still are, one of my greatest friends. The one that I could tell anything to without being judged. Our conversations could go from casual and goofy to serious and dark and then back again in a matter of seconds. I always felt that you understood me. No matter what happened, you never got angry with me, even when it was blatantly my fault. Even when you should have yelled... you never did. I know that I've let you down. By not telling you everything... by not always being there. I've tried my hardest not to break that promise, but yet I still feel you slipping away from me. Every conversation that we have anymore is nothing but small talk, it seems, and it pains me to my core. How come I can't talk to you like I used to?
I'll sit here on my bed and take a deep breath. I know you're better off without me.
The truth is, the answer is no. I'm not doing fine. I'm not okay. I can't sleep. I don't hardly eat anything anymore. I don't leave my house unless I am forced to. I talk to maybe two people on a daily basis, and even then its only for maybe five minutes. I don't want to talk to or be around anyone. I want to stay locked in my room, with the lights off, laying in bed all day. I lay awake at night trapped inside my head staring at the walls and the cealing. The thoughts that go through my head, I would never dare to tell anyone. Part of that is because I'm scared, the other half is because I wish to protect them.
The people that I would tell this to have their own problems and responsibilities to sort through. Why would I want to bother them and make them potentially worry about me more than they already do? I've thought about doing something irreversably stupid so many times. They tell me that it will be okay, but of course they'd tell me that. Their mind isn't trying to kill them. I just simply don't see the point in living anymore. I dissapoint everyone around me. I'll never live up to their expectations. I know that I shouldn't be trying to be who others want me to, but... I just want to make everyone happy. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm done trying to fix myself. I've tried for what seems like forever to do so, and it never works. I've just given up on everything and everyone - especially myself. I've been telling myself for what seems like forever that it'll get better, and all I'm doing is shoving a lie down my throat. Things don't get better. They get worse and worse and worse until you eventually hit rock bottom and then you're just stuck in this permanent state of Hell and you feel like there's nothing you can do about it.
You go online and you research and you know you're not the only person that feels numb day in and day out, but you still feel alone, like you're the only one. You do research on all these things that you can do to fix yourself, and none of them help. According to most, depression is a choice. I never chose to feel this goddamned way. My parents look at me and tell me they have no idea who I am anymore. Guess what? Me either. I lost myself a long time ago. Everyone wants me to smile, and laugh, and be happy all the time and I just can't do that anymore. I just... I know this probably just sounds like a bunch of random thoughts, and it is, but there's just so many things that I want and need to say to someone - anyone - and, well... you've been asking me.
Anger. To most, it was nothing more than a passing emotion; something found in the heat of the moment. To her, however, anger had a face, and he sat right there in front of her, leisurely, by the window. Anger was harsh, but there was also beauty in it, and the young man was proof of this testimony. Anger had a sharp jawline, and high cheekbones; anger seemed to be made of nothing but dangerous angles while his fair hair taunted her, begging for her to run her fingers through it. Anger was confident. Anger was raw and unapologetic - he took no prisoners. But most of all, anger was beautiful. He met her gaze, His eyes with their playful glimmer beckoned, calling her closer but keeping her froze in place all the same. Anger appeared to be simplistic on the surface, but if one dare dig deeper, they would find its secrets. The truth was: He ever so slightly scared her. Though playful at the moment, she was well accustomed to the ferocity that his eyes obtained more often than not. The way he held himself - always guarded. His words were often mean and short - to the point. So mean, in fact, that she could swear that she sometimes felt the sting of the m upon her skin. And from all of this, she somehow knew, that he, too, was broken. Maybe not as much as her, but he had his fair share of demons. Anger was like a methodical lion, and she, his captivated prey, standing there stupidly. Anger was cunningly beautiful, depraved, and cynical. She would never want him to change.
Sadness. Many authors had try to analyze it. Artists tried to depict it, and musicians tried to make you feel it. All of their efforts have failed in one way or another. Sadness is a complex thing, taking on many different forms, and felt in many different variations. Anyone who had ever tried to analyze, depict, or make you feel it had only focused on one aspect. If you asked the man, he would say that was what angered him most about her. She thought of herself as simple and one dimensional. He, on the other hand, saw every side of her: Every shed tear, every shade of blue, and every word left unsaid. How could she ever water herself down like that? It only made him love her more.
There is the simple sadness. The kind where one might shed a tear over a beloved book series or TV show coming to an end. This was the sadness that she let people see from time to time. You could see it in her eyes, when they traded in their mischievous glimmer for a look of exhaustion. Her tone of voice would become quiet, and the way that she held herself suggested that if you dared to ask, she might just spill her thoughts. Because the truth was, she did need a release every once in a while.
Then there is the sort of sadness that creeps up on you and feels like it lingers there for a lifetime. She only allows those closest to her to see it. She'll stare off into space, isolate herself, avoid eye contact, and never say any more than three words at a time. Last, but not least, there is an overwhelming sort of sadness - his personal favorite. During this time, her cheeks would be flushed; her eyes tinged with red. Her face would be soaked where she had allowed the salty tears to flow freely. Her lips would be a few shades darker from where she had bitten them - a weak attempt at trying to regain self control. Nimble fingers would reach for her throat, to play with the charm on her necklace - a nervous habit. Her hair would fall wildly in an attempt to hide her face. It was times like these when she became angry and bitter. He had never seen someone show so much raw and pure emotion then when she did during these times. This was when he found her to be absolutely breathtaking.
When she got this way, she would say whatever was on her mind. There was many a time where she had claimed to have felt nothing but numbness; times where she begged to be left alone, and he refused to leave her. There were times where they stayed up into the earliest hours of the morning. She would talk, and he would listen. He knew the deepest, darkest, most hidden parts of her soul. Oh, how he loved the darkness within her - how it completely and utterly fascinated him.
There had also been times where he had wrapped her in a fierce hug, as if her could shield her from all the bad things in the world. Time where he buried his face in the hair at the nape of her neck. He would listen to the steady sound of her breathing, and during the times where she said she didn't know if she was dead or alive - that sometimes she thought of a nightmare that she might one day wake from - he would take her hand in his and place it over her beating heart. A reminder that she was, indeed, alive.
Sure, he loved the moments where she let herself cry freely, but he also cherished the moments when she really smiled, the smiles she didn't fake - the ones where her eyes lit up. The sound of her laugh brought him joy unlike which he had ever known.
Many people would tell you that happiness countered anger, and they would be right, for happiness countered lots of things. But in their case, sadness countered anger. Though her soul was set in darkness, she was his guiding light. She needed him, and in some strange way, her needed her, too. He needed her there to calm him during his rages, to let him know everything was going to be alright - even if she didn't believe it herself. To tell him that he hadn't become the monster he believed himself to be.
You spit your lies through crooked teeth, I watch as your kingdom crumbles from beneath. A change that didn't work But at least it made the demons smirk. Freshly shed tears Your mind endlessly turning like gears Screaming at the walls Oh, how the might will fall. Your world falls to ashes As you watch through darkened lashes Will you rise to sieze the day, Or simply let it fade away?
There are things in life which you will never see.
From the way she clenches her jaw in frustration, to the way her eyes never meet another's for more than a few seconds at a time. Nails digging into her palms to make crescent shapes. Lips bitten bloody with words unsaid. You will see nothing but the brightest smile, and this is how she wishes it to be.
There are things in life which you will never hear.
Silent screams and hushed whispers in the night. The way she stutters in self doubt. Quiet conversations with herself to try and make sense of it all. You will hear only the most cheerful laughs, and this is how she wishes it to be.
There are things in life which you will never feel.
How hollow she is inside. The blinding rushes of anger. No one will ever know the way her heart feels when it shatters. How it feels to be silenced, and afraid to speak your mind. No one will ever feel the constant presence of sadness. You will only feel happiness when she is around, and this is how she wishes it to be.
There are things in life which you will never know.
How the ticking of the clock is a constant reminder of her life wasted. Never know how she is her own worst enemy. No one will ever know how many times she has pondered over their words at night - good or bad. You will only know what she allows you to know, and this is how she wishes it to be.
You will never notice her fading away, and this is how she wishes it to be.