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Slices of Pie
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Chapter 19:- Completely Alone
I'm crying. I can't help it. Nothing can help me; I just want to be alone. So alone. I don't want someone asking me what's wrong, because I don't know. I don’t want people who don't take I don' t know for an answer. They all tell me. Tomorrow is another day, dear. Just wait until tomorrow. You know what the damn problem with that is? Tomorrow is going to be the same. Exactly the same as yesterday and last week, the same as tomorrow and next week. So why should I wait for tomorrow? Why should I wait any longer, when there is nothing worth the effort? Don't you understand? There is nothing anymore. I feel around under my bed to find my knife. Deep, deep into my arm. Again. Again. Long gashes appear in my arms. More. More. I am open. Why won't the pain inside flow out with the blood? I know why. I know that's not really my reasoning. I bleed to know that I am still alive. That I haven't shattered in the night but remained the same ghost I was before. I plunge the knife in again, refuse to give in to the pain. Refuse to feel anything at all, refuse to slip, refuse to fall. I can't be weak, can't stand still, can't show the truth. My mask is here in place, you'll never know. I'm smiling for you. I am smiling to appease people, no longer for the purpose of smiling. Nobody can know this life unless they've lived it themselves and fought their way out of it, scarred and scared. Those are the ones that know. How many are there? I don't know. I sure haven't found an awful lot. There is no one here for me.
It's the loneliest feeling in the world. Stand in the middle of a room, in the dark, the door locked. Listen to the blood drip off your arm, feel the cold blade. Realize that you are alone. Completely alone.
I'm crying. I can't help it. Nothing can help me; I just want to be alone. So alone. I don't want someone asking me what's wrong, because I don't know. I don’t want people who don't take I don' t know for an answer. They all tell me. Tomorrow is another day, dear. Just wait until tomorrow. You know what the damn problem with that is? Tomorrow is going to be the same. Exactly the same as yesterday and last week, the same as tomorrow and next week. So why should I wait for tomorrow? Why should I wait any longer, when there is nothing worth the effort? Don't you understand? There is nothing anymore. I feel around under my bed to find my knife. Deep, deep into my arm. Again. Again. Long gashes appear in my arms. More. More. I am open. Why won't the pain inside flow out with the blood? I know why. I know that's not really my reasoning. I bleed to know that I am still alive. That I haven't shattered in the night but remained the same ghost I was before. I plunge the knife in again, refuse to give in to the pain. Refuse to feel anything at all, refuse to slip, refuse to fall. I can't be weak, can't stand still, can't show the truth. My mask is here in place, you'll never know. I'm smiling for you. I am smiling to appease people, no longer for the purpose of smiling. Nobody can know this life unless they've lived it themselves and fought their way out of it, scarred and scared. Those are the ones that know. How many are there? I don't know. I sure haven't found an awful lot. There is no one here for me.
It's the loneliest feeling in the world. Stand in the middle of a room, in the dark, the door locked. Listen to the blood drip off your arm, feel the cold blade. Realize that you are alone. Completely alone.
