(WARNING: The following Content May Cause Triggers For Some Readers)
When she finally felt less like breaking down and more like breaking free, she unlocked her phone to brave these images of self harm mingled with quotes of the tormented.
It stung her pride to admit that in the past years...she did not trust her self enough to see these pictures, although they had always been a click away, some creeping doubt of being sucked in was unconsciously present...
a whispered fear of becoming more miserable had stopped her from ever looking them up, but tonight...she scrolled down what THEY had to say with warm tears shed of understanding and not of relapse.
THEY are the kids with an open window for peter pan and broken windows to their souls; waiting to be rescued from the voices that left them such empty eyes; colorblind to a world so often said to be colorful.
There was contradiction in how they dealt with their respective portions of the invisible plague, some slept in for hours just to wake up tired and pity anyone who reminded them of them self's... While others chose eternal sleep over insomnia and crossed every road hoping to crossover...
They could be too quite or severely over- hyped;well hidden beneath a surge of energy that's seemingly dressed by the loudest of laughter's yet, so painfully underlined with the shame of not knowing... Not knowing if...their very own sound of merriment was fake or not; because the difference at that point was practically nothing.
They differed in reflecting distress but spent their days alike; twenty-four hours similarly blurred together...glued by a dozen jokes about jumping, thrown around with quite a bit of real consideration; which scared them into thanking God that no one can read minds, until they eventually realized he was listening, and that's if they even believe in God anymore.
If life was a movie they did not expect to be a crowd favorite. How could they? DSH is not exactly an endearing quality, besides, the continuously chugged down bitter opinions spoke volumes about how likeable people thought THEY were...
but of course, they might also be their own unjust critic; who's vicious jabs have bruised their self love and perhaps turned it to less than powder, holding them back from what could pass as the newest relationship goal. There was so many of them and the list of things they had to say went on for miles, but she stopped here.
Holding the phone closer to her chest and shaking in her blankets, sobbing for them all, because every word she read...every picture she saw passed as relatable by how familiar its biting darkness was. She had once heard that first degrees in psychology offered little amounts of job slots in America, but students still came in waves
So it occurred to her that maybe its because people wanted to understand and help themselves along with anyone else in similar situations...she also hoped to volunteer for such a position after she felt stable enough...until then she wrote to you at the very edge of midnight.