The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 30

We all talk for a while and I keep my fake happy act up. The see straight through it. Their reactions to my responses are evidence of that. Maybe if I can keep my facade going for long enough they will believe it.

Dr. Green and Mr. Blackbourne have to leave to go see a team that helped with my rescue. There I am, creating problems once again.

I slink back into the oasis that is the bedroom. It is a place to hide.

I only cause problems. Problems that these boys have enough of their own of. They don't need mine added to the pile. They don't need me in their lives.

I grab a pen off of the nightstand. I feel like repressing my emotions has turned me into a volcano, a soda bottle that has been shaking, about to explode. Better for me to explode onto paper than at someone.

Pen to paper, ink spilling like tears. Just another thing I am soiling. The beauty of a blank page.

That's the issue. I mess up anything and everything. Everything.

I deserved it. Better me than them. Better me than anyone.

Nobody would care anyways.

I don't think I will ever be as happy as I used to be.

It hurts.

It hurts so bad I don't know up from down anymore. I don't know

If the the experience or the memories was worse. I don't know

​Does it get better? Or will the pain just get tolerable? Will just become accustomed to the darkness that is all consuming. I don't know

Maybe life is dropping me a hint. It's time to leave.

I am the unwanted child. And I see why. I don't want me either.

I don't see why anyone would ever want me. I'm more than broken. I'm shattered.

Worthy only of a waste basket, too difficult to fix, to put back together.

Make that impossible.

Hae you ever wanted to cry but the tears just won't come out? That's how I feel.

I don't want to be alone but I have a desire for isolation.

I kinda just want to be gone.

Maybe I can be hit by a car?

I'm lost.

I'm twisted.

I thought I would be happy when I got out.

But really I'm anything but.

I am alone.

I am afraid.

Maybe I can't be fixed.

Maybe I can.

No.

I can't think that way.

I can't afford to think that way. I can't afford hope.

I remember what I used to have.

Stools and showers are a better fate than what I live now.

It was like a demon possessed me. I write without thinking. I don't remember what I wrote, so I flip back through it.

It was a mistake.