PAIN, mADnEs$, light and Dark life is full of ups and downs. The Dark Shadows caused by the Shining Light, the Shinning Light causing the Dark Shadows and the Grey area that is in between. This is a collection of short stories, poems, letters, laws...
I am drowning, so far under I can't see the water's surface anymore. Can't see the light of the sun, of my dreams, of the hope for peace. I can feel my lungs slowly filling with water, as the water surrounding my seemingly empty shell of a body grow colder and colder the further down I sink. My body, as dense and fragile as a feather which carries the weight of the world on its small thin barded edges. A feather sunken bent and broken by the weight of the problems in which it carries. A feather which once floated .... which everyone thinks is still floating above the surface of the water, floating through the air without a worry in the world but they are so wrong.
For what they see is nothing but an illusion, an act, a mask to hide how broken and bent beyond repair that little feather is. Once a pure innocent white now turning a deep dark black the longer it falls into the slowly darkening abyss that is the water in this, the bottomless ocean. this abyss is the holder of all my pain, lost hopes, broken dreams and shattered hearts. Broken by the cruel words and the painful punches of others and the harsh but true reality of this little life we live. My abyss so full of my pain, and suffering that it is almost overflowing. That the barrier that keeps up this happy facade is starting to break. If it continues it may even break more than I already am. I have gotten quite good at acting as if everything is ok. Maybe I should become an actress for I have kept up this same act for years without fault.
That feather once so pure now so dark continues to sink until all is lost and no rope you throw me, no ladder, no scrubber gear, nor no oxygen can save me. I am so far behind, so far from saving. I can't catch up, I won't be saved, I can't be saved. NO matter what they say they can't help me... no one can.
I am too far in over my head, bit off more than I could chew, whatever you want to call it. I have dug my hole, to deep for me to climb out of, so now it has become my grave. So far it is nothing more than an empty hole in the ground. That holds as a reminder of my suffering, pain, agony and a reminder of the life I still live, the pain I still feel, the suffering of my family and friends .... of me. I can feel my cells slowly one by one start shutting down, dying and fading, withering away. As if they too have given up on me and are telling, yelling, screaming at me to "End it all". That all this grave needs, is my cold dead body.... Maybe I should listen to them, to everyone and just end it. My pain, the hate I have for myself and this world.
I could end it all with one simple rope necklace, an additional breathing hole in my head, a more aerated lung or spine. I wonder how long it will be until they find my strung up body, the empty barrel of my gun or my blood-stained knife. How long will it take until they know? Until they realise, that life is no picnic no matter what age. That it is hard, both emotionally, physically and intellectually. That all good things must come to an end. That every story must have its end and that this is mine.
Because finally..
They won...
Their words have broken me beyond compare...
Because... they won...
Their hurtful actions have made me fall...
Because... they won...
I won't get back up.. I can't
Because... they won...
They won...
...and there is nothing left to do but to slip on that necklace, aim that gun and position that knife. To hang, fire, stab and end it all. Like they always told me to do. Just like how they wanted it.
Because in the end....
They won...
Not me....
I did not win...
They did...
They Won. . . .
They Won. . . .
First Published on the 16th of September 2019
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