Soul {Prose Vol. 3}

xx Prose: Beating

written, posted & named: february 23, 2021 from 11:54a.m. to 12:07p.m.

inspiration: my feelings after taking my first media branding exam & feeling like a hindrance and serious annoyance to a friend + my loneliness.

song: all time migraine (mashup) - twenty one pilots & jon bellion by quentin mashups on YT

/ - /

today, i waited.

i've stated before, albeit two books ago, that i hate waiting.

i've always had to wait. 

the wait wasn't long, but it was enough.

it was painful and lonely. 

i stood there, 

forehead leaned against the pillar, 

ready...

i just wanted to hit my head against it 

over and over and over,

maybe make my thoughts go away,

or myself.

but that's too gory and my friend was coming.

i can't traumatize, i know what it feels like.

even still, i wanted to punch the pillar repeatedly

until my hands began to bleed, 

and not care about the scars, the utmost pain it would leave.

i considered that too.

the pain wouldn't be so bad honestly,

i wouldn't care-- i've felt worse,

but i can't end up in some facility and

i don't want some medical treatment.

i just wanted to punch it, 

let my frustration out, 

my pain, the detrimental anguish,

my fears and fight back the tears,

but i didn't.

i wanted to.

bare knuckles and all, 

who cares, would've done the job. 

then she came. 

i was let in and i just walked past,

threw my stuff down, 

flinged my glasses, didn't know where they were to land

and fell onto my bed like it was a cas'.

i was sad.

i'm still sad.

my music blared in my headphones,

but i barely noticed.

the wall is all i saw, my head was facing toward it.

i laid there on my stomach, engulfed in the darkness

door wide open, plushie clutched and

annoyingly, very briefly some tears fell.

my throat and nose got clogged,

but the tears stopped 

and i stared.

a blank stare, there it was

the numbness again.

it's all good. 

there was simply.. nothing. 

and now my phone is thrown,

across the room, basically out of it-- it's halfway under the door,

but i'm not staring at the wall anymore. 

i don't want to take my backpack

throw it down and use it as a punching bag,

scream and throw its contents out,

lose my mind and knock things down.

there is simply.. nothing.