She


And there she is again,

Always there for me when I’m out

But nowhere to be found when I’m locked in.

When I’m alone with my thoughts

Which is hell on earth.

Like a Möbius Strip

It’s one sided.

All my arguments and counterarguments

One sided.

They mean nothing.

Because I am mentally incarcerated

And my warden hears not my pleas.

My cries to fall on deaf ears.

“You will have no subpoena ad testificandum

And shall remain here.

Albeit you want to, or not.”

The warden says.

Tears well up in my eyes,

And as I feel myself accepting fate,

She walks up to me and cheers me up.

Her kind face and altruistic actions cheer me up

Momentarily, I am at peace.

She sees my hands, runs a finger along my scars

I retract my hand in shame,

Covering it with my long sweater.

She pulls it back and traces a finger on my scars again.

I close my eyes, wishing she’d stop

Knowing that she means well

But too ashamed to let her empathize with me.

My eyes flip wide open as I look at a scar

Dark brown,

Beautiful in its ugly state,

But memory filled.

However,

It is covered by a tear drop.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Four tears in all.

She looks at me

Then my scars

Then me.

She wails.

Crying for me

Crying for all I’ve been through.

Then she begins chiding me for going down that road again.

I say nothing.

She stares at me, tears streaming down her cheeks

I say nothing.

Peering through the distance,

I see my mother who beckons me to her car.

And with that, I leave her.

The ride back home is a silent one,

As I ruminate on her words again.

“She means well”

 “She didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.”

“She’s only trying to encourage me to be better.”

I tell myself.

But all that’s in my head is her reproach

I’m home now, in my room.

My physical prison.

The only place that knows all my secrets.

Has been through thick and thin with me.

And then I see IT.

IT’S always been there for me too.

But IT’S also the reason why I’m like this.

I look away,

And her words hit me in full blast.

And I begin to cry.

“WHY CAN’T I BE NORMAL?”

“WHY AM I NOT LIKE THE REST OF THEM?”

“HAPPY, CHEERFUL, AND NOT ACTING LIKE I’VE BEEN HIT WITH A FIDELIUS CHARM

BEING A SECRET KEEPER WHILE ACTING LIKE ALL IS WELL?”

“WHY COULDN’T I JUST DIE?”

But those are questions I already know the answers too.

“I’m a failure in life.”

I finally tell myself.

As my brain reminds me of my reckless actions that prevented me from being normal.

Reminds me or what happened when I revealed my secrets.

“Heck, I couldn’t even kill myself!”

I say

As my brain reminds me of my failed suicide attempt.

And I am alone again.

In need of help.

Looking for someone to save me.

Someone.

Something.

Help.

And again,

Through my blurred vision of tears and snot.

I see IT

I hold IT.

Remember the moments we’ve had together.

Remember how IT caused her to cry.

I toss IT away in disgust.

But then I remember her reproach.

And I slip back into this familiar darkness.

In a blind rage, I pick IT up

Press it against my flesh.

IT is cold.

My skin becomes warm

As I feel that dark red warmth

Leave the place IT came in contact with.
That surge of adrenaline fills me,

Leaves me quivering in ecstasy.

Calms my nerves.

I pick up my pills

Shoving in as many that can enter my mouth.

I swallow,

Putting IT away.

I lay my head down and feel my heartbeat slow down.

I am no longer upset.

No longer sad.

 

I am at peace.

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