Two

As she anticipated, the day was worse than the night. She gets off the floor dragging her feet up the stairs once again and heads straight for the shower. Feeling better after cold water beating down her weary muscles, she moves to brush her teeth. She raises up tired eyes to the wall mirror and just as she meets her own gaze tears well up her eyes again. Her bottom lip trembles and her brow creases. Her shoulders shake in silent cries and she runs to her room. She sinks onto her bed and cries with her face in her hands.

The door to her sister's bedroom opens and she wipes her tears quickly and closes her door. Angry with herself, she curses and bangs her right arm with the wardrobe door. The pain shoots up her arm. She bangs her wrist once again. This time she doubles over in pain. And yet a sick satisfaction comes to her heart. And she feels better. Her heart was numb from aching. The physical pain changed course of pain in her being. From concentrating on her mental pain to nursing physical pain. It felt good. In a weird way she felt relief coursing through her.

Her arm throbbing she goes out her room again and brushes her teeth. Getting dressed was not tough. Having decided on black to match her stormy mood she just throws her clothes on her and descends to the living room to wait for her ride. She flips on the TV and decides on a music channel. Only to find her favorite rock band on. And the dam broke again. For some reason the ride is late to come. By the time she is a get to work her face looks like a watermelon. Work isn’t working. She leaves for home twenty minutes after arriving.

It is so hard trying to be happy, burying demons and fighting tears all the time. This facade that nothing is wrong, everything is just fine is just falling apart. The paint on these walls is falling off. And the ugly wall is now revealed. She longs for a rain sort of relief to wash the pain cutting deep within her. She wishes that as the clouds clear in the sky and let the sun out, its warmth will make her cold heart function again, her blood run again....

It’s funny how these little trips designated to bring her back to reality do not work. The mind shakes, the knocks on the head...it’s just not working.

Dear Diary,
It is payday. In more ways than I would care to explain. I am living on the edge but I am soon toppling over. My suicidal thoughts are returning. This time in multitudes I wish, oh how I wish to close my eyes and never wake up. There are too many walls that I cannot run down. There are too many rivers to cross means of which I have not. And I have tried. But I cant. And now I am tired of fighting. I quit. There is no silver lining for me. That crap is for other lucky bastards out there. As for me, I was born to be miserable. And misery has become me. I shall succumb to it. And live it. God knows how many times I have run suicide through my mind. But watt if I don’t die? Can I really face the music then? My soul is burning. A slow painful flame. My heart's rhythm is that of a dying bird. If my reflection could show whom I am inside, I would be dead by now. My dreams haunted by memories and unknown futures. My nights turn into day. My worst fears have come alive and my worst nightmares catch up with me in broad daylight. I have no life. My life has been taken away from me. I am living and breathing hell. Should I do it? Should I sell my soul to the devil? And you tell me not to worry? That troubles do not last always? Well it's been over ten years now. As wasted as worry is it is the only thing keeping me sane. They say to me "every cloud has a silver lining" well, not for me. They say when you feeling sad and lonely just search your heart for that inner strength. What inner strength? At hope? For inside me there is only failure. A hopeless case. How can I look inside myself when there is absolutely nothing? Apart from filthy, malicious emotions. My soul is so dark that the last glimmer of hope has died. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I have found me and I am going to destroy me. And I am not running anymore.

She puts down her pen and closes her diary and picks up the bottle of sleeping pills sitting beside her on the table and heads for her room....

GOODNIGHT.