This is a Whistle RoseofInk




This is a Whistle 





                                           RoseofInk mentalhealth stories
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roseofink
roseofink Writer of things.
Autoplay OFF   •   8 months ago
A report on depression. Hopefully a way out.

This is a Whistle RoseofInk

"Cousin..."

"Cousin,"

"Cousin!"

"Ouch! Damn you.", Anastasia was now holding a hand to her face, where redness was starting to appear.

"Why on earth, would you wake me up like that?!"

"Because you kept saying nothing in Latin and woke me up."

A pause.

"Well how do you know it was Latin if I was saying nothing?"

"Oh my... Cassandra, nihil... You were saying nihil!", realization made itself known in Cassandra's face.

"Oh, that makes sense. Then, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I'm going back to bed. And you, you keep your strangeness under control, please."

Anastasia retreated to her corner of the room, where her abandoned bed awaited, an aching cheek in hand.

Nihil... I don't remember dreaming. Did I?

Memories.

Cassandra turned on the bed and commanded herself to sleep once again, and only darkness awaited her.

But that's just it, isn't it? Darkness, in various forms that keeps waiting for us. This is what Nihil is, a darkness that consumes everything into oblivion.

Nihil is the void, the darkness, the abyss. The place where all lost souls go. Although souls cannot be lost, this is a misconception.

Souls are attached to us just like a shadow, your shadow can't be removed from you and the same goes for your soul. That illusion you have, that your soul is lost...

That's all Nihil's fault, it makes you stand in darkness for so long, that you no longer see your shadow.

Nor feel your soul, for in amidst the darkness there's the void, and that consumes all feel.

Cassandra didn't know yet, but darkness comes first in your dreams.

It comes lightly at first, a patch of dark here and there and you dismiss it, just like you would with an ink mark on your fingertips, from playing with your pen. Nice memories.

But then the dark grows, and now it bothers you because it doesn't wash off. And somehow, it's your fault.

So, you don't tell anyone and go along with it hoping people won't see it, won't comment on it. While, simultaneously longing for someone to tell you how to part with it, how to clean yourself.

By the time someone suggests a way you already grew fond of it.

It stares at you throughout the day, whispers words that you pay attention to when at the end of the day you feel something is wrong.

It removes you from the real world because it wants you close, and you play games with this darkness, that's no longer made of solitary patches.

It is now, a big, terrifyingly beautiful black painting, and it plays with you, leads you on a dance and tells you that you don't need anyone. The two of you make such an exquisite pair.

And when someone comes to ask for your hand in a dance, you're not so sure you could. The darkness has told you that you wouldn't know how to dance with someone else.

And no one wants a partner that cannot dance. And you start to think that you are quite ridiculous, pathetic not knowing how to dance.

You feel its affirmations, its reasoning growing heavy on your chest and you think it's love.

It's a lie.

Not even the darkness loves you, and how could you blame it? Your pathetic, you think maybe you should leave the darkness, but how? And go where?

You don't have friends; your family doesn't even look at you anymore. At least the black keeps you warm.

"You should come with me and the girls to the movies tonight, cousin.", Anastasia says to Cassandra.

"Humm, I don't think so, sorry", you respond with a disinterested look on your face.

"Oh, come on, it would be good having fun with your friends, we can get popcorn...", Anastasia has picked up a flashlight and it's throwing it in the air.

You focus on the spins it does before reaching her hand again.

"They're your friends, not mine."

"Well, you can make them your own, they're cool.", Anastasia is pointing that flashlight to you now.

You close your eyes to guard yourself from the cold light coming from it. How could I make friends? I'm no one, I lost my soul.

"No, sorry. Thank you."

"Okay, next time then. I have to go, love you!"

You smile, you see the sad look on her face and tell yourself that is because she's stuck with you.

She doesn't mean it, how can she? I'm not lovable anymore, how can someone be loved if they can't feel a thing? Maybe I never was, maybe I never did.

Your soul is not lost, the darkness has just hidden it from you.

You can feel, the void has just convinced you that you can't, little by little the darkness became darker and this was the result. You can get out of the abyss.

Your soul can take you out, just call out to it. If you don't have the voice to do it just use this whistle, it's made of faith, faith in small things.

Faith in the green of the grass, faith in the smell of coffee in the morning, faith in your once loved dancing, writing, singing. Faith in the sun, that always comes up in the morning.

Now that you have this whistle, you'll never lose your soul again. You are no longer in that abyss, but you are still in the void.

And this one is trickier, it's so dark, you can't see a thing, it still doesn't let you feel more than pain, but you can feel that now, at least. It might comfort you. It's so dark.

You wish you had Anastasia's flashlight now. Your soul is tugging at your whistle. It's trying to tell you something. Or maybe you're just getting crazier.

You walk around the void, without seeing a thing you stumble, fall, everything aches. And you cry, for yourself, for the dark, for Anastasia's flashlight.

So, your soul rises and tries to pull you up, you don't want to. You'll just end up falling again. But your soul shows you that flashlight in your memories, and that makes you stand up.

Your soul leads you to your Will. You gasp when you see it, it's so broken... You barely recognize it as your own. But you take it anyway, you're broken too. You can be broken together.

You carry your Will around for a few days, in the dark, hoping you both won't fall. It is looking better, it's cracked, a few pieces missing still, but it's better.

Suddenly, you see a glimpse of light, and you almost can't believe it. You hear a voice, it's very distant, you can't discern what it's saying, so you take a few steps.

"Cousin?"

Is that... Anastasia? You start walking more briskly. It is! It is Anastasia! You come face to face, and there she is holding that flashlight. But you stop, cause that light seems so cold.

Nihil is nothing, it's the void, the abyss, the darkness. And that can mean everything or nothing at all.

You have a choice now. My advice: Grab onto that flashlight, I promise it's warm.

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