....me

It wasn't meant for me to be here. I started life with an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, drowning in my mothers fluids and have lived my life like that ever since. Last night I dreamed of dying, loaded gun in my hand with me eager to pull the trigger. The devil was there urging me on, “It's time for my princess to come home", he said. I don't feel "okay" today, I'm not content with living my life the way I do. Unstable, unloved, unappreciated as the monster forced to sleep in the bell tower tucked away in my isolation. With an occasional visit by the two village idiots who've come to torture and humiliate me for their own pleasure. "I'm supposed to be strong, immortal", I tell myself but at the price of my immortality comes suffering. Years of torment have worn my body down and I look as if I have aged 20 years. Each line on my face tells the story of a girl in search of acceptance of approval but not the last line. It tells a story of hate, of a dark path taken. The protagonist in this tale is a girl transformed into a woman. Visible black veins run through her body, each one with a different person’s name, each one created by hate. She's devoted to sin, attracted to pain, condemned by her faith but it's all her own, no one cares. Why would she expect anyone to give a fuck anyway? She's sad inside but it's dying slowly, just like her. She lets go of the strings attached to her by the mortal world. There's nothing left for me here. At night she can feel her soul burning, engulfed by fire. It isn't long now. Her dark prince whispers softly in her ear, he's waiting. Tears are streaming down her face, ice cold tears. She doesn't feel "okay" today and probably will never be. Death is beckoning; it's almost time to go home.




*This was also an older writing of mine but a favorite nonetheless.*