I lay down with a heavy head on my pillow and it is a moment of discomfort as I realize how wet my pillow has become. My pillow has black marks on it, due to my mascara smudging around everywhere, and my make up running down my eyes.
With the trembling force I have, I force myself up again and turn the pillow on the other side, and I lay back down. I am laying down like a zombie, and just staring in the dark nothing of my room. My room is the deep, dark colour of my sadness, and it hurts me to see my room bathed in the colour my soul has showered in all these nights.
I close my awake eyes and hope that my coffee puts me to sleep. My hair smells like smoke and coffee, and my skin is cold, for as the window of my room was open. I was getting weaker, and I still managed to sit up straight, to close the window behind me, and then I realise that my window has been closed all along.
The cold was not coming from anywhere, but myself. I was frozen and I was in pain. I could not even move, I was just staring outside of my window, hoping for this all to end, hoping for me to be me again, hoping to be the person I am and always was, before my life took all these drastic changes.
I often wonder how I used to be, but I can never remember, for as ever since I remember I have been like this and one or the other thing always delivered me pain and tears.
I lay back down and hug my pillow, because a hug was all I ever needed, a line of comfort was what I yearned for, and yet, whenever someone tried to console me it was just a blank nothing, a hopeless, painful, and terrifying sign of closure.
True souls are hard to find, and even harder to keep in your life, for as they are stronger, they are more beautiful than ever, and capable of ruining the last bit of self love you had.
Never put too much in souls that are hungry for your mind, and soul, and body. They’ll eat your broken pieces and leave only your bones, your weak, weak bones.
Be strong, they said, and stabbed me a hundred times in the back.
