My diabolical world.
Faint whispers echo in the back of my mind. I can?t quite understand what they are saying to me, but they still haunt me. I?m standing alone amongst many groups of faceless figures. Experiencing the familiar sensation that I?ve felt, for the last few months, being trapped in my own space isolated from everyone else. My eyes seem to glaze over. I stand still. Frozen to that spot, with no warmth or oxygen. I feel like I?m drowning, falling into darkness.
I see that one person, who used to mean something to me, until I realised who they really were. Such a false character, desperate to drag me down by involving me in their lies. I got confused with every word she said, conflicting comments: polite compliments; destructive rumours. A build up of fire, the onlookers eyes burning into my skin. The sadism amongst the crowd was obvious. The devilish smirks progressing into that cruel laughter that I knew was only present because they were witnessing my pain first-hand.
Images flashing in my head of my nemesis, the grins, those eyes, the loaded words cleverly used as weapons against me. this stranger manipulating my life to make hers seem better. I thought I knew her so well, I trusted her with my problems, the entwined things in my head. I couldn?t make sense of it on my own. She wore a mask, one I couldn?t see through.
Although it was summer, I was cold, my bones stiff, my fingers numb, and my body shaking. What I feel seems to differ from other people?s perceptions, as does what I see. I see people in black and red, graphics painted in blood. The cancerous actions and words that hurt people so much just being thrown about; does nobody care anymore?
Since when was this a world where the dying were left on the streets and the Devil was free to take them to his kingdom? This shouldn?t be allowed to happen, but nobody wants to be the one to criticise God. Even those who are cynical of the Christian believes are frightened just incase the big guy really is up there. It?s difficult to have faith when you never feel particularly great in the whole sixteen years of this amazing experience called living. What has the almighty God ever done for me? Not realising the deliberate rhetorical question, one person answered that he created life. I said, ?WOOHOO! Look I?m alive! I feel terrible, the number of times I?ve thought about ending the pain the easy way is uncountable, and you want me to be grateful for this state I?m in??
There was a long period of time I couldn?t sleep at night, because of what lurked behind my closed eyes. Two worlds: one an icy heaven, full of white angels with perfect feathery wings; the other the fiery hell which holds dark angels, broken people, with torn black wings. They fought over me, and I fell between the two places into nothing. The continuous falling terrified me, I woke up screaming and reaching for something to hold onto. I used to stop myself from closing my eyes with the philosophy that if I never slept I would never die. Insomnia was absorbing me into a sub-reality. Never sleeping but never being awake either- a ghost of me dragging itself over the earth.
Now I slip into a deep sleep and let them fight, goad them until they can come to a decision. Hell suits me better, I feel like an outcast in heaven, so different and insecure while they?re all perfectly pure and free, exactly how I felt in groups of people: alone, tired, imprisoned in the minds of others, transparent, and worthless. The same emotions over again. Constant d?j? vu. Hiding doesn?t help though, I tried, and it built up inside me and made it worse.
The truth was the last chapter of my life, before I dived into the icy depths of myself. I ran to hide, unable to cope with my demons. After an immense amount of verbal abuse, I became numb to it all. Nothing could penetrate my outer shell. At first it?s where I wanted to be, alone with myself, without anybody to hurt me or bring me down. Now I realise that I?m the only person who could ever cause me to feel pain. I locked out the reality, but my own world is the threat.
Once a blonde-haired, lively girl, hyper, jumping about while shouting and laughing with bright blue eyes. Alive and well, capable of anything and always willing to take up a challenge. Until my ?friends? turned against me, spreading rumours and ignoring my cries for mercy. Now a black-haired, melancholy ghost, hovering in the same spot while people rush past me, with dark, tear-filled eyes. Just alive and no more, a fallen angel, unable to fly.
Conspiracies against me still follow me around, I pull them along like a sled on snow. often I struggle and fall, sometimes without the strength to pull myself back up. Collapsed in the coldness, I stay there, watching people pass me by. Nobody cares what happens to me, and I begin to loose faith in myself, with no reason to encourage me to clamber up and continue my harsh journey in the extreme conditions. My life feels worthless, because that?s what they said about me, the lies and twisted truths circling me and eating me up. I hold them all in, keep them to myself. Quiet for so long, then exploding while there is nobody listening. The repetitive cycle that my life follows, stuck in a loop.
There is only one person I trust, and even then I?m too scared to tell him too much, I don?t want him to leave me. He has already helped me so much, helped me to see that hating myself is one of the reasons I feel alone so much. I got a clearer view of things after he explained that not everything is my fault and I cannot fix all problems or solve all puzzles. Life is one big mystery that not one person fully understands, of course it?s a little more complicated when there?s pieces of yourself missing.
Sometimes I still sit and let myself fade away to a mere shadow of a person. Let my life go into fast forward. I sit for hours watching people run around chasing material possessions, constantly trying to better themselves, with a great amount of hope creating these blasts of energy, like rocket launchers behind them; they move so quickly they fly over the ground, always so busy and occupied in their own lives. Their collaborated voices, shouts and laughter sound like whispers to me. I feel faint. Like a dying angel, broken wings and a cracked heart. My thoughts are still so messed up, tangled together in long chains, locked up. If I could freeze time the same way time freezes me, I would be able to melt away the ice from my past, and continue with my sad existence of which some people call life.
Bored with barriers and bored of rules. The system dragging me down further than I already am, I ignore it. Start to realise it doesn?t matter what people think of me, only my opinions count for anything regarding my tastes, interests or anything else. I can listen to whatever music I want, black out any noise with my favourite songs, without listening to anybody?s comments. I can wear as much eyeliner as I want, dye my hair whichever colour I see in the distant rainbow, and wear any clothes I want. Being true to myself is all that is important to me at the moment, I?ve learned that through the more difficult times. At my lowest, I realised that my only regrets in life are the risks I never took, and that helps me to get back up when I fall. No matter how much it hurts when I faint or fall, I get up and try again, and again, and again?
I?m still confused, but as long as I listen to what I feel inside I can get through, taking challenges as they hit me. The state of deep depression still assimilates me sometimes, I break down, feel so numb and the screaming in my head propels me to insanity, but I write it down and it halts the pain. People think my scribbles mean nothing, they have no idea that?s exactly how I felt when I wrote them.
Without any specific place in time when my soul burned with acid, it?s difficult to know how to neutralise the pain. Always pushing to find solutions to any problems I cause, it destroys me when I fail. I so desperately need help, but I find it difficult to trust anyone. I battle with myself to protect my secrets, afraid of what people would think of me if it got out? I know for certain that I wouldn?t be able to cope with it.
I know what they said about me, what they still say. I know that I?ve changed so much, but I?m recovering, and finding myself again. Call me depressed, call me ill, call me anything apart from pessimistic; I?m not being negative, I?m only telling the truth. I refuse to tell people about the beautiful, ideal world that some think they live in, life isn?t fair, and it?s cruel and unpredictable.
Feb 13, 2006 @ 16:46:22
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