I dunno... Some ramblings/doodles/scribbles... What have you... =/
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09:25AM_______________________________
Mentally strong. Physically weak. Physically strong. Mentally weak. Physical wreck. Mentally broken.
“You can‘t. She will be fine. You kids stay here. We will call you tomorrow morning.”
She wouldn’t be fine.
Why?
She’s not well.
How do you know?
I saw it.
She’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.
…
You act as if you know everything, that you can make everything better by telling a child everything will be alright. Are you not strong enough to face the confrontation of explaining a younger human being what Life really is? Or do you feel safe yourself in your own made up little fairytale?
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I saw that, but it wasn’t anything happy. It was petrifying, but I’m not scared.
No, I don’t believe Heaven is something good. I don’t have an opinion on the after-life, if, there is one in the first place.
I don’t believe in Hell either. But whatever I saw that shadow figure move out of, it wasn’t anything relieving, and the figure wasn’t relieved from pain, and stress. ‘Suicide isn’t an option.’.
“What a strong child.”
Ignorant. I’m not a child, and I’m not strong. I’m a teenager with a scarred childhood.
“I’m sorry. Things didn’t turn out the way we expected…”
…You mean… …I told you you were fooling yourself.
Though she still choked back a tear.
10.18AM_______________________________
Some pointers, or a tap on the shoulder when she made a mistake. Some space, to develop herself. Some restrictions, so that she wouldn’t have fucked up her life.
All she needed, was her parents.
Guidelines, do’s and don’t do’s. You can, and you can’t. You are allowed, or you have to. You’re not allowed, and you damn well won’t.
…Hello?
Keys shoved in her hands, door slammed shut.
“Be back home tonight, baby.” Rang as a meaningless echo in the hallway.
…But you just got back home…
01:26AM _______________________________
Maybe it was was the lack of self-control to set standards, personal limits of ‘will-not’s’ and ‘will-do’s’. Or maybe it was an uncertainty of being loved. In fact, she wanted to hear anything but having them telling her she was better off without it.
If they cared, they would know this wasn’t what she needed to hear. If they knew her, they’d understand her fears, they’d know how to mend her pain, dry her tears, how to fix her broken heart. They didn’t know. Or rather… they just didn’t care. They didn’t notice, didn’t ask, didn’t realize… That all she needed was a hand to hold, all she needed was some directions, when her view was blurry.
All she wanted to hear was that she was cared for. Cared for with a meaning beyond looks, beyond likings. Cared for as in ‘can’t live without’, ‘need’, ‘have to’.
I love you.
…
…You don’t mean that…
Uncertainty.
That's how she lived her life.
Irony...
She didn’t have a clue as to what it was to feel alive...
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