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| "Their words cut through me like ice..." |
(Note: this post will be part of a half-fiction, half-truth journal that will continue for an unspecified amount of time.
If you don't like this, I suggest you find another blog to read.
And if you're wondering what is truth and what is fantasy during this journey; that's up to you to decide.)
15th November, 10.32am.
I can hear them.
Not always, but every now and again, I can hear people laughing at me, their voices ringing as sharp as a bell in my head. I try and convince myself that it isn't true, that my friends aren't so malicious, but my mind says otherwise.
"They're laughing at you." "They think you're a moron." "Can't you hear them, bitching about YOU?"
All these, and many more, play non-stop, each day, each hour, and it's hard not to listen.
I try to block them out, to no avail - the torture continues.
How have I fallen so far? An optimist who saw the good in all - turned into a nihilist with a penchant for despair?
The question will have to wait until later - my work lies unfinished, unused on the table. I star at it for what seems like an eternity, the sounds around me all coalescing into one amorphous voice - a voice without impact or power behind it, just a collection of individuals vying for dominance.
My next door neighbor, she does not like me. I am not surprised. Whenever I open my mouth, I often say something stupid, and wind up being scolded as a result. There's no point arguing my case - everyone remains laconic in response, ignorant of how they've gone and exacerbated the situation. Thus, I sit down, surrounded by people, yet feeling more alone than before - sometimes it's simply best to remain quiet.
15th November, 11.10am.
I sit alone, clutching a warm savory meal for sustenance - it is the only company I have.
A few friends walk by, but nothing changes. I'm still on my own, as I always have in these times of crisis. It is when I am at my weakest that I hide alone. With others, all they do is mock and deride my problems, going so far as to dismiss them entirely. Their words cut through me like ice, inadvertently contributing to the growing sadness inside me. I wish I could turn back the clock - get things back to the good old days once more. It's too late to indulge in such puerile fantasies for me. No happy ending this time.
There was a time, believe it or not, when I was not like this. I was, to an extent, ordinary. I had great friends, a great role in the community, and a best friends who I adored with all my heart. Now, I still have everything - minus that best friend. For reasons best left for another day, our friendship ended, and now I lie with a ragged hole where my heart once beat. That's what I'm missing - that one friend I can confide in and trust completely. But I know they'd all laugh. They always do.
My secrets are laid bare, and people of all stripes seek to judge and mock me for what I've done.
As if they're any more holy than I; many of them have skeletons in their own closets, but I choose to keep my lips sealed. No-one likes an honest man in this town, no matter how valid their points are.
15th November, 12.20pm.
People go about their daily business, hanging out with their friends, having fun - all whilst I walk alone, keeping my emotions hidden under a calm facade, hiding the words I want to say.
In an ideal world, I would say what I want to say to my friends, but how can I?
When all their voices do is shout me down?
I learnt the hard way that should I trust anyone with anything important to me, they will laugh and throw it back in my face - and I'm left to pick up the pieces.
Whilst all this is happening, she lurks in my mind; the best friend who has plagued me for so long, without even saying a word.
Why do you stay?
Why can't I erase you from my memory?
I move on, eager to escape the nightmares lurking within, and the false hopes that once led me astray. I was foolish to think that I could keep her in my life - I should have seen this coming, and taken action.
Whilst lulling in sweet, saccharine bliss, she edged further away, repulsed by my actions. And when she split, it was too late - the damage had been done, and I had lost the woman who had guided me for almost two years. I shut the door and moved on months ago - but the nostalgia I felt then was certainly more comforting than the dark apathy that resides within me. I see no point in anything - everything I used to do, all the friends I talked to... it's as if all the color has drained from my life, and my vision sees nothing but grey.
Love? Hate?
Neither find no home here - the indifference which smothers my heart blankets out anything else, protecting me from the inevitable hurt I will face should I learn to love again.
15th November, 3.05pm.
Time to head home.
The only place where I know I'll be safe from their harsh laughter, their mocking voices.
I know they're all whispering behind my back - they've done it to others, and I'm their next target.
That's why I yearn for home - my friends may not be here, but now I can be alone; away from those who would wish to deride me and those with nothing better to do than torment others.
The cold breeze cuts through me like ice, resonating with the growing numbness in my mind and heart.
Nevertheless, I trudge on, eager to hide back in my shell.
It's the only place where I'll ever be safe. They can yell and curse and bitch, but my shell will keep me safe.
It's the only place where nothing can hurt me, and where I can remain unscathed.
I often wonder how I've wound up in this situation, and all I can do is beg and plead for the past to return.
Such foolish dreams will somehow become real if I wish hard enough - even though my mind knows that there will be no fanfare, no cavalry to save the day.
Only the remnants of my wilting hopes and shattered dreams hold any semblance of comfort from the raging storm inside.
My mind begins to close, my heart begins to weaken
The girl I once knew, that one shining beacon
Of light, of love and all the things I adore
Fades away, and I am left at death's door.
Holding wilted hopes, I surge further on
Passing the souls of the lost, I don
A cloak, to hide myself from the pain
I have lost the one I loved, with nothing left to gain.
Onward I trek, her screams haunting this place
My heart dims further, and now it becomes a race
To reach the finish line, before it's too late.
My legs drive me on, towards the golden gate.
Now, I fall, fall into the dark
Memories flashing by, my thoughts turn to the Park
Where all was fine, and all was right
Alone, I shatter under Darkness' might.
Source of image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Comfortably-Cold-98440687
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