I was filled with hope and dreams back then. I used to feel the joy of seeing friends and being around those I cared for. A free-spirited boy, but it all changed.
For falling in love he was punished, exiled, scowled at, disregarded, locked up, shut out, broken down, withered.
He was left feeling empty in the space of 48 hours. That boy was destroyed inside, I was destroyed inside…
A few days later he walked along the street, walking back to the hell he called home.
Crossing the street he walked oblivious, an oncoming vehicle, a truck.
For a moment he almost stopped until he felt the pull on his arm, the person who he hurt.
The person he loved.
They didn't realize he was going to stop there, they just pulled him thinking they both were about to be hit.
He wanted to burst to tears, but he didn't, he held it in.
That same night in the shower, he held the sharp blade, making cuts across his right arm.
High enough to avoid being seen.
Why did he do so?
He wanted to feel, I wanted to feel.
I couldn't feel emotion, so what about pain?
Maybe the pain might help me feel again…
He didn't want to cut after that,
If they found out it would cause him more grief.
I… He continued, looking for something, something to help him feel again.
But he found nothing but the ever-growing emptiness within himself.
He had forgotten completely of his dreams and passions.
He just wanted to know how it felt to live again,
He just wanted to lose the feeling of wanting to disappear.
But no matter how hard he tried, he just wanted to vanish, with no trace, he didn't care what his family would think, he hoped his friends would forget him, he wished that the ones he loved would hate him.
Then one day a summer after the starting day of darkness, he visited the ocean, the sea.
Hoping he was unwatched, he walked briskly into the sea.
The deep slowly rising to his shoulder,
A wave crashed down on his head, he let this happen.
He tried going further in but felt a hand pull him,
A stranger thought he was drowning and tried pulling him to shore.
The boy, startled, shook free and apologised for worrying them and headed to shore.
The emptiness eating at him for the rest of the day lasting weeks, maybe months.
He developed a habit, a nasty habit.
He would scratch at himself, mainly his neck.
He couldn't break the feeling of numbness and emptiness,
He tried dealing with it by causing a physical pain.
He met a nice lady at his school one day, he felt secure around her,
He wasn't empty, itchy, hollow.
He felt accepted, and quite possibly happy.
He opened up to her.
It all went wrong.
He knew she meant well.
But they sent people to his house,
The demons he lived with stripped him of all things that would help block the pain.
He lived with his thoughts circling for months, maybe a whole year.
He can't remember anymore.
But that lady left, and it hurt him, even though she did what she did.
He began feeling unhinged, unattached to himself.
He felt like something was controlling him, yet he felt in control.
It was as if the only thing he had left within him was anger.
Something boiling up.
But it wasn't anger that was bubbling over,
It was every negative emotion that would break him down.
But he shut the seal so tight that this bubbling feeling got locked so far down within him that he could no longer understand.
He could no longer understand what they meant.
He wanted something to kill him, as he could no longer bring himself to do it.
Nights became times for voices, endless voices.
Sounds he wanted to block out, speech he'd never heard before.
It was as if his body was tortured and was projecting his pain.
Slowly the days continued.
He lost the feeling to feel.
He stopped scratching.
He started going to uni.
He wanted to create a new self,
But his voice corrupted,
He couldn't speak,
His demons stopping him.
His past preventing the new him.
The first year passed being stuck at home.
He wanted it to pass faster.
He went back.
At the station he watched a speeding train pass.
His legs weak, but he couldn't.
He lost his dreams,
He lost his hope,
Why was he here,
Why does he continue.
Why am I still going forward.
Someone tell me..
Why am I still here?
I just wanted to be happy.
I tried to love someone, and my life was burned.
And as each year passes.
As it reaches that day.
I will make an attempt.
To end it all.
As it should've ended,
When I watched that truck approach,
6 years ago.