Into deception

Weeping wall

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I don't go home, not yet at least. My feet move to a whole different street, a street I haven't walked in a long time but one I could really use right about now.

It takes 30 minutes to walk to the place I put all my secrets in. A place I have drowned my thoughts in over at least a hundred times and so when I open the brown front door I've grown so acquainted with, I step inside. It's warm and cold all at the same time, that's what happens when the stupid window won't close and the heating is on. You get both worlds, hot and cold and never just in the middle. The mattress catches me as I fall back onto it, the floor creaks slightly under the sudden movement and I know I should probably lift it off the floor so it would stop annoying me but I don't. In a weird way I find comfort in the sound. I know it will always be there, I know to expect it and I know it will annoy me.

My thoughts begin to unload like they always do when I'm here. It's the only place I allow them to at least. The silver of my dagger glistens under the moons light and my eyes dart to it, I have this sudden urge to stab something, anything, so I do. I stand up grabbing it off the little desk before stepping onto the worn out mattress. My feet softly sink in and I have to find my footing before taking in the dull wall before me. I wait for the goosebumps to finish making their rounds around my body before letting the weight of my daggers kick start my heart. It's a feeling I know better than anything else on this planet. I twirl it once more before digging straight into the wall.

It thuds.

It tears.

Cement falls onto my mattress, onto my clothes, into my lungs and eyes yet I keep cutting. Keep carving pointless marks over and over again and again so much so that the only reason I stopped was because my dagger hit a pipe behind the wall. My hair falls in syncs with my breath as it lays scattered across my whole face, my eyes shut faster than anything else as I feel the weight of water pile against them, all I want to do nowadays is cry, it's gotten to the point where I sometimes have to beg myself to just let me be. Let me be human and break down like the rest of them. I step back, then back some more, and more, and more, a little more till my back hits the stupid windows ledge.

My body shudders along with my unsteady lungs as I stare at what I did and that's when I finally feel myself crack a little too sudden. Too sudden for myself to be able to fix and hold together, too sudden to be able to tell myself that I'm fine, I sink to the floor letting out a deep breath.

My feeling are all stabbing inside of me. It's killing me and yet I'm alive, it's torturing me and yet I don't bleed a single drop, it's all like a sick game. So, I drown in the pain, I fall onto my side curling into a ball smaller than my body allows me to but I go against it and pull myself even tighter sobbing into the empty room that has four walls and a stupid window but more importantly with a wall that has my deepest fears carved into it. With a wall that if it could speak would weep with me. I fall asleep in my own pool of tears, in my own pool of sorrow and terror. With a wall that will haunt me just like him.

Seeing him, alive and talking, looking back at me with so many thoughts is torture. I hate him, and I hate myself even more for knowing I don't.