This Time In My Life
This Time In My Life  dark stories
  15
  •  
  0
  •   1 comment
Share

anonymoush
anonymoush Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   21 days ago
I used to hold my emotions in so much that I could cry on command just because the moment I allowed myself to be sad the depression emerges and pours out my eyes It started out as a leaky pipe that slowly started to fill a well drop by drop until finally it overflowed and only to be refilled again and overflow again in an endless cycle

This Time In My Life

I used to hold my emotions in so much that I could cry on command just because the moment I allowed myself to be sad the depression emerges and pours out my eyes

It started out as a leaky pipe that slowly started to fill a well drop by drop until finally it overflowed and only to be refilled again and overflow again in an endless cycle

The well seems to empty when a new person enters my life and appears to be someone I can trust, however this facade doesn't last,

they leave and we barely talk the bucket they once used to empty the well only now sits underneath the roof on a chain above the trapdoor

At the moment I cannot cry, for the well is sealed, tiny leaks appear on the trap door, but do not last, as time goes the well seems dry for I can't cry, however it's just silent,

mute but not deaf and still able to erupt at a moments notice

I wait for someone to open the door, to start draining the well, for the bucket or pale hasn't done too well, the past has broken me, and the future I fear,

will only disown me like everyone I have ever held dear

These feeling of doubt, these feelings of sorrow, these bottled up emotions will kill me by tomorrow, unless I get help I cannot receive for the stigma I will face is more than I can burden,

the people around me all feel so fake, for whenever I open they immediately float away like a message it a bottle trying to get away

The pain I'm enduring is driving me insane this rhythm of destruction my own head does play, the slowly deterioration of my mind and soul, is killing my body and turning my heart to stone

The killing of my heart is the simplest task, all I have to do is think, what's the worst about that, my body is a doll plucked with pin cushions,

forever in pain and forever stuck in this endless journey I'm facing all alone the pain is taking a toll the endurance I've got is running too low, I wanna stop, I can't now endure,

but if I show weakness, I surely can't control the instinct inside me telling me to do it, I cannot own a gun outta the fear, that my brain might do and pull the trigger even right here,

this canyon inside me is echoing the wish of my soul to only be accepted and loved, that may seem like a wish that all can love, but the real problem is that it's only a fake,

for the real wish I have is to to not live this day

This demons inside me all getting free like I'm a sailor lost at sea, surrounded by sharks with no dolphins in site and given the false hope of my radio working,

when I reality this is as far as I'll go the person you once just to know,

never existed that was just a marrage for the real one inside cannot open up they are sealed in a tomb with no key in sight the chains that now bind it growing tight.

The person you once used to know is the one who tried to be the best he could when challenged he's best he fought and he climbed to grind to the top, but when he got there he finally stopped.

He looked all around and what did he see happiness and equality, for he finally did it he achieved he's goal, but now he felt emptiness in his soul,

he's happiness came in cycles of 2 and when he got home all he knew were the burdens he carried all for you, he's demons consumed him,

he couldn't contest for when he fought back he got even more depressed.

The loneliness he feels and the needles is his brain all point towards destruction, as the only option finally emerges, he can only feel these ungodly urges,

these feelings of dread are all that he's know for when he was alone they trained him to feel only for them and to never let anyone accept him.

The ability to rest is a feeling he knows too well, for sleep is the only answer he knows, the escape from reality, the escape from the fear, that one day he will not be here.

This idea of death seems so far and yet close for when I think of a future I do see it like most.

I can't imagine myself in ten years for truly I do not know if I'll make it, the surprise that I face everyday is that I didn't do it today,

I'll wake up tomorrow with the same fear in my heart as I've grown accustomed to it, it's the only thing I've got, the only feeling that hasn't left me, it's all that I've got ....

The death of us all is not to be taken for once a time when death was taken, the feelings of dread, the feelings of sorrow, if I could die and not cause these I'd jump at the chance,

for the world that live in doesn't deserve me, my mind and body where only meant to oversee I cannot intervene,

for I am like a mirror that sees all and reflects back the imagine others only want to see

The point of my life has been a blur, for I am almost full grown yet still alone. My purpose in life has come to be early, for my experiences with loneliness have made me quite observant.

I can detect lies without a second thought, I can observer and oversee others actions and micro habits or ticks and commit them to memory.

I am able to foresee what others may do, as my mind is always racing to overthink every possible outcome.

This ability I have is not secret to me, for I am like a tree I have a strong foundation and bark hard to peel for this shell I'm trapped in is made too tough,

but underneath the exterior lies a fountain of emotions banging on the gate trying to escape.

This role I've received is to be the side character, the one who helps with others stories, never to write his own, little storylines may emerge here or there,

but never last long enough to pursue. This role I've been chosen to perform is often a confide I've learn to accept for my mind cannot come up with anything else yet.

My mind that races, my mind that overthinks, finally has a conclusion it can agree on and it's this, I wasn't meant for love or happiness,

I've was meant to give love and happiness to others and expect nothing in return, because no matter how unfair this may seem, it's a role somebody has to do and I guess that somebody is me

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (1)
SHOUTOUTS (0)