Probably this is crap, but idk... I just felt like sharing this piece of crap.


Dark Colors

I started painting the walls with dark colors. I started closing up the windows and the curtains of every single room. I started turning off all the lights, all the lamps and the bombs. I started living in the dark, it was better that way. I started locking myself in my bedroom. I started going out less... And staying home more.

I'd leave my place just when I needed food... If I ever felt like having some of it.... If I ever felt hunger or something similar to the feeling of feeling something ...'cause normally I didn't. I had stopped feeling something quite a while ago...

Emotions, feelings and stuff like that had stopped being part of my world. My days were vague. My body was almost dead. My soul was still hurt. And my heart was barely beating.

I started wearing black or grey even more often. There were days when I didn't really care at all and I just stayed in pjs all day long. There were days when I'd stay with the same clothes on for two days, for three days... For a week, for two weeks, for three... Even for a month, before everything collapsed.

My skin started looking so dried... My temperature was dropping low. My senses were outta my control. I didn't know what was real and what was not. My body felt weaker and weaker. I started looking like a zombie, every day more and more. I had stopped walking, I had started dragging. All day, I'd lay on my bed... or on a couch... Or anywhere where I could lay on... Like the floor, which had become my favorite place to cry on till falling asleep.

I'd wake up next day on the floor and wouldn't get up. I was too lazy to do another thing but to lay on the floor the whole day staring the nothing.... Nothing, that reminded me everything I was and everything I was not. I'd cry like 3 to 4 times a day on my regular days... And 1 to 2 times a days on my good ones. On my bad ones, I'd cry too, but there was literally no pause.

I really wanted to get over all the stuff that didn't let me recover from this ****** life. But apparently I wasn't a good enough reason to do so. I started making others existence the only excuse to keep living. People who since I had disconnected myself from the world had tried to communicate with myself in uncountable ways stopped calling... And it was okay. I had left with any warning. I had left without saying goodbye to anybody. Family, friends... I had left them all because I feel like I couldn't take it anymore. A part of me thinks that I sent say goodbye at all because probably I thought I'd come back soon... But the other part tho ma that maybe I was aware that I wouldn't come back once more. I had ignored all of their calls, all of their messages... I had quit on social media too. Nobody knew anything about me... But myself. I had become a complete stranger to everyone even to people who were always by my side.

My days were lonely... Even tho I had people worrying about me. I wasn't alone, but I always felt like I was. Crying became a daily habit. All I used to do was laying on the floor, having null thoughts, plus breathing and eating once in a while. Breathing had become just a kill-time and eating had turned into just an obligation.

Anyways, I was still holding on to life. But I was just unconscious of being still alive. Every day was repetitive. Every single day seemed the same. Today was like yesterday. Yesterday was just like today. And tomorrow wasn't even a mystery. Life became even more monotonous and boring than usual... Plus I started to become oblivious to the passage of time. I didn't feel like I was aging... Because time had stopped for me very long ago. It didn't matter because I didn't really care. What day it was... It didn't really matter. I couldn't even remember. And that was okay because who cared?

No body did. Not even me. As I said, I was there but at the same time I wasn't. I just coexisted with truth in that happened in the world. I was just a living object. A walking soul. An empty heart. My feelings had disappeared. My emotions had already been gone. I was lacking a meaning. Nothing made sense anymore.

I wasn't living, I was slowly dying. I had given up on life, even tho I didn't want to. A part of me didn't want to try to survive. I was all by myself. It was kind of logic and reasonable to want to start hating life... And as soon as I started hating it....out of the blue, I started hating everything, and everyone else. I didn't want to breath anymore. I didn't want to eat once again in my life. The hate towards me had invaded my whole self and had reached new levels. I didn't really know what I wanted. But there was just one thing I wanted and it was to fade away... To vanish.... To get away from wherever I was.

As I repeat, I was alone and even tho at some point of my life I loved my beloved ones even when I didn't even love myself... I felt like this wasn't just my fault... And started changing my mind. I was going insane and no ones was there for me anymore.

My mind played tricks with me. It fooled me. It breathed me. It made me think that everyone was indeed my enemy and that no one was my friend. That's why I wanted to kill everyone. But that didn't change the fact that I wanted to die, first.


Let me know what you think. Positive/negative comments are always welcome.
PerfectParadise PerfectParadise
70+, T
1 Response Mar 18, 2016

I think this is fantastic. It is a simple bare bones expression of where your emotions took you. It shows a transition that you went through step by step. I liked it because to a degree we all close ourselves off. Keep writing.