Love, Honey

#1 *SS Her

Darkness surrounds her. It's pitch black. Not even the slightest gush of wind brushes over her face. She's alone, everyone left her after realising that she is just a porcelain doll roughly glued together after being shattered in 1 million little shards. Did she fear for that to happen once her secret was spilled? Was she preparing for this situation?

Of course she was. But she never wished to show her true self. She never wanted others to know what happened to her and scarred her deeply.
Even the guy she called her brother and closest friend turned his back on her, followed in the footsteps of everyone else, acting like he never did before. Her rock in wild water, her flashlight, was gone.

The only thing she has left is herself. No family. No friends. Nothing.

The loneliness made her insecure. Her feet only move hesitantly. Her voice quieted down. She always wears an expression of distress, beads of sweat shining on her forehead. There's no desire left to be perfect or to fit in. She doesn't see the point of it. Right now, she'd really like to know what it would feel like to have wings, what it would feel like to fly, to watch over everybody that used to be close to her. She wonders what it would be like not to be anymore. Her fingers wander over a collection of blades, just to decide that her time is not now. She hasn't suffered enough. She still has one dream, one goal that'd need to be shattered. She's not ready to give up. Not yet.

Her eyes are tired but she can't close them. Her thoughts run, she can't stop them. Her hands drown, she can't lift them. She feels like she's lost control, like she's just a puppet, the strings in the hands of those who don't care anymore.

Her slurring words try to explain, but it seems like they're just gibberish. Her glazed eyes are begging, but without light there is no message. A spark of hope illuminates within her but it cannot start a fire without being fed.

Sometimes she wonders what other people think. She wonders if she's ghosting trough minds. But never will she know, because these people are not her, those minds belong to others. If she ever knew, she'd most likely be disappointed, people don't deem her as important. She's just a sad, broken little girl, wanting attention and someone by her side. She is sick of the loneliness, dark thoughts and every judging glance. She is begging to be normal but normal she will never be. It seems like she has a big tattoo on her forehead saying "psychopath" but every time she checks it's not there. A cloud hovers over her head, raining down on her every day, fogging her every glance.
She realizes that there is no fight. There is no decision. No light. Just her.