What do I have to lose? by MissNotUnderstood, literature
Literature
What do I have to lose?
"I drive around a bit. Don't wait for me. It's gonna be late."
"You can't drive anymore. You're drunk."
"What do I have to lose? My driving license? My freedom?" she giggled.
"Your Life."
Silence. She stared at him for a long time. Snorted scornfully. Then she stepped outside and threw the door shut behind her.
I'm lying in my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I should not think about you but I do. It's cold. I don't know if I only feel the cold in my heart. I don't care about that. It's a moment of silence. Thoughts can be thought. The darkness is my home. I feel good. I feel better than in brightness.
My phone rings.
I look up.
It's you.
Later.
This is my moment. Just mine.
It was a normal school day. The lessons ended a few minuets earlier. The pupils talked about tests, rumors or free time. Noone looked at that one girl. She was standing in a corner at a distance from the others. Dark thoughts slipped into her head and sat down to torture her. Only a few knew her name. Noone knew her story. A two-man group pushed past her. She fell down. Noone helped her to stand up. She had to do it alone.
That was the moment she made a decision. She took her bag and went out of the room. Out of the building. Noone saw her. Noone noticed her disappearance.
The next day she was missing. The next others too. Just a week later
Can you even call it a writer's block?
I have the ideas – thousands of them – but I just can't seem to get them right on the paper.
I write a sentence, then another... alone they seem fine, together they seem heavy. Lifeless.
Why can't I find a way to get the words to flow, to dance across the paper like they used to?
Instead they seem to march lifelessly like soldiers returning from war – with too much pain and to little limbs to be graceful.
I want the story to be sung, but most of the time it comes out a inaudible mumble.
Words which should have been strong seems hollow and sentences which should have been beautiful
Our lives are short and our reasons for living are unknown. Yet the small time we are allocated we have the chance of something so great as love. To know it and to feel it, if we are lucky.
We were in rows, our numbers unknown possibly infinite. Behind me countless of my siblings, in front countless more. Or so I thought. An indefinite amount of time passed and then I saw an opening in front of me. Through the opening there was a drop and at the bottom of this drop were more of my kind.
And that is where I saw her. She was long, slender and blue. I felt an immediate attraction to her that I had never felt before and could not explain
A life has ended. Gone. There was no reason, no malice, no excuse.
My husband was killed by a drunk driver while stopped at a red light. There was nothing he could do. He did nothing wrong.
I have lost the person I love most, my home, and my future. We had time. So much time. Until someone stole it from us.
Grief is nothing like media makes it out to me. We all know the "5 Stages of Grief" that have become nearly common knowledge. What they do not tell is us how we experience almost all of them at once.
I am in denial and expecting him to call me any minute now. I am so angry I shake with it. I am bargaining and begging
He is the King of the midnight hour. Sitting on a throne of solitude, wrapped in a cloak of darkness and wearing a crown of hatred. His sword is made of ignorance and his boots is painted red by the blood of innocents. He listens only to the whispering voices of his own demons and keeps only his insanity as company.
There had been a time where the world had seemed much brighter. When he had been too young to understand why people glared at him on the street and kept their children away from him. A time when he hadn't known that the funny looks his mother sent him were those of regret and shame. He did not hear the whispers in the corners, but like every other child tried to please everyone around him with sweet smiles and funny games.
"Would you like to play?" He would ask with innocent red eyes, just to be pushed aside by the other childrens' parents.
"Get away, you little freak!" they growled and pulled the kids away from him, leaving him sad and conf
don’t talk
just breathe
stand straight
smile brightly
don’t argue
don’t fight
don’t cry
don’t frown
do homework
go to parties
sneak out
get drunk
listen to friends
go with the flow
be silent
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular