She sits up against the bed frame on the queen sized bed by herself. The bedroom silent with the tv sitting on the dresser straight ahead from her turned off and no cars heard in the distance. It's early morning the time she always wakes up, sipping her coffee after the morning traffic, staring at her blank laptop attempting to write.
Another countless day she struggles with her writer's block and no motivation. Bored. Bored out of her mind sitting there. Counting the hours until her boyfriend comes home from work. Hoping more than anything she can come up with something to prove she is not just some lazy person sitting at home watching tv.
As she sits the same thought replays in her mind wondering where all her creativity went. 'It used to be so easy to write. The ideas used to come to me and whatever it was would be written within days.' she thinks to herself shutting the laptop and laying on her back staring at the ceiling.
She reaches for her ear buds laying back on the bed and sticks them in her ears, pressing play on her touchscreen phone to let the music begin as she closes her eyes. She places the phone on the bed beside her and within seconds she becomes lost in the song. Feeling the music as she sings along in her head trying to reach what once had sparked inside her to write every waking day.
Slowly but surely drifting into her own dreamworld where her characters exist. A world she sometimes wishes was real because in that world she is a somebody. She is important. And without her those characters would not have existed.
Some days she tries to forget the sad truth being those make believe people are her only friends keeping her sane. Keeping her from ending her life she has considered meaningless since her mother died back in August. That day was an unfortuate day she will never forget but even before life was never easy for her.
She stuggled her whole childhood and teen years trying to find a passion or calling. Wanting desperately to fit in with others she could not find a common interest with. People did not understand her back in her school years from a young age and even now in her twenties they still don't. No one sees her talent or her weirdness as something unique or interesting. No one sees her as anything.
To everyone passing her by she appears to be a shy, lost, confused, depressed girl nobody cares about. A girl everyone can walk over as if she is a doormat. A person who is looked past most days without a glance. And deep inside a burning sensation starts to build within her knowing she is being looked through. She is nothing but a forgotten face getting lost in the crowd.
No one can see her pain she suffers every day or cares enough to be concerned over a person they cannot see blending in with the others. No one asks if she is in need of a friend. No one can see through her green eyes she is on the verge of suicide and needs help. No one asks if she is even okay because no one cares about a person like her.
This is a blunt fact she does not want to come to terms with. The pain of knowing no one cares if you are to die tomorrow causes one's depression to worsen like it has for Helen.
She is misfit, broken and lost in a huge huge world. She spends her days living in a pretend environment she created. She longs to belong in the real world but it doesn't seem possible. Instead she chooses to live her life through her characters with a happy ending but she knows happy endings do not exist. Maybe this is the reason her inspiration left her behind.
Vampires, are what caught her attention. She loved reading, she loved everything about picturing a whole other world inside her mind about creatures she sometimes wished were real. Movies are just not the same because through the words filled on the pages she could imagine. She could attempt to see what others have when they wrote their book.
An escape, is what she called reading. She escaped when times were tough. She didn't want to see the horrible life around her. She wanted to pretend she was the person in the story living their life. She didn't want to socialize with people that could hurt her. She wanted to get away from the name calling as a child, the bullying no one realized was affecting her, a mother with an addiction to pills, a father addicted to drinking, a cousin who touched her the wrong way, and guys she let hurt her repeatly.
YOU ARE READING
Sick Intentions
General FictionPiercen Hamilton is his name and he has been calling this two bedroom house his home his whole life. He inherited the place from his parents when they died on his eighteenth birthday. A tragic car accident leaving him with their money. He isn't poor...
