Posts Tagged ‘short story’

I live there (this is the link to the post spoken out loud)

You know that place deep down inside you, the place where you hide all your feelings. It’s a dark, cold, hateful place full of sadness and regret. Yes, that place.

 

I live there.

 

Been hiding in here for years now, ever since the day I was frightened into concealing how I felt.

 

Don’t feel bad for me, it’s really not that horrible down here. I mean besides how cold it is. If I longed for anything it would be to feel that warmth again, but I know the only way to attain that is to climb out and my fear is to great to let me do that.

 

I have friends to keep me company, sure. Sadness, by far the easiest to deal with and least painful. Sadness is always there for me, in fact Sadness never leaves, such a loyal friends. Regret is another good friend. Always pointing out the things I did wrong and helping me understand if I only did things another way I wouldn’t have gotten trapped down here. Sometimes I spend days with Regret analyzing all the mistakes I have made in my life. My least favorite friend is Guilt. Guilt like Sadness is always there but Guilt hurts. Guilt burns at me all day and night. Guilt questions me “Why are you here? No normal person would choose to live here. I hope you feel angst by being down here. You deserve it. You’re not normal, you’re sick and disgusting.” Guilt enjoys lashing at me from all angles, pouring salt in my already weeping wounds. I have to give Guilt credit though, Guilt is always honest, never tells me a lie. Darkness is the only other friend I have down here. Darkness fills in all the other cracks left by Guilt, Sadness and Regret. Darkness wraps me up in its ice cold blanket, shielding me from any warmth that may venture in.

 

Somedays I think about leaving this place but then Regret swoops in and reminds me of the time I let my feelings out, the day that made me come here and then I decide it would be easier if I just stay. There are days that someone tries to reach their hand in and pull me out but don’t let them. If they knew how it is down here they wouldn’t try to save me. It’s hopeless, I’m hopeless.

 

You know that place, that dark, cold place inside you, the place where you hide the feelings.

 

I live there.

 

Please don’t come and find me it’s not worth it.

This is a exert from an unfinished story I was writing. Somehow this is the only part of the piece that moves me or that I think is worthy of sharing.

“When your young you think love is the easiest thing to give and receive. As you grow older you learn love is hard to attain and even harder to keep. Love fades, love cracks, love disintegrates. There’s an old adage that says it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. You don’t believe that do you? To love someone so deeply, so passionately and then have that love ripped from the heart of your being, leaving you broken and wounded; Left to patch yourself up with temporary, makeshift relationships. The hole never fully heels and the memories you had together are like bullets shooting out of the darkness hitting you when you least expect it. A sight, a smell, a touch and the pain of loss comes rushing back to you, causing a tsunami of emotion. Collapsing to the floor you weep for your loss, your family’s loss and the world’s loss. Then you pick yourself up out of the pool of tears and continue on, not because you want to, but because you have to, because You are Alive.”