It was five in the morning; the air thick with misery and reminiscence. We lay on the rooftops; your voice still echoing in my black hole of a mind. Have you ever, just once, truly felt alive?
I wish I could answer that question with a yes—instead of blowing kisses towards happiness, the majority of my consciousness is spent as a distant observer, usually in a state of isolation and self-loathing. While you, you go and find tiny metaphors to bring someone a step closer to happiness, not even caring about your own genuine happiness. "Why do you do that?"
Her lips pursed as she closed her eyes, noticing the blur of colors dancing in her skull. "Well, I truly believe that people—out of all the creatures in the universe—underestimate the power of words. When the person who is supposed to love you unconditionally mumbles words spewing from anger and hatred, you take in the smallest utterances and over-analyze and mull over them time to time again until your mind aches with the resonance of your lonely heart. No one can define sadness because it takes away our humanity—leaving us naked in the starlit sky.
The true depth of it is so out of reach—people even tend to forget how it feels to be ignored, to feel appreciated, and to be let down again because our minds are devoured by the dark mist of sadness. I want to take away that feeling.
I want to give promises to everyone that they will be okay, that one day they will make it through a whole day—I'm talking about twenty-four hours of happiness. That tiny promise, that small sentence jumbled up with words spun from constellations—this makes people truly alive. To know that one person in the world cares about them so much, they will entwine words and lock them. It gives them...a sense of worth."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
