The Lost And Found (P.1)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic


Series of short stories about the house of a narcissist.

Submitted: December 02, 2017

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Submitted: December 02, 2017

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She wasn't living a life
She was living grief and sorrow
While around her everything looks perfect in the eyes of others...

How could anyone explain the nights she was crying herself to sleep.
They all can dismiss it and brush away.
But if it cost her soul to die and her identity to never be... then it's more than you been through.

Imagine waking every beautiful day and not able to enjoy it because of that one person...
Because of that one person that lives a negative life with a negative mind in a negative bubble, no one can pop.

And she has to live the life which is forced on her...
Ever since ever after...

Other feelings are not welcomed in that house of that person...
And before you come in, leave your opinion and wisdom outside
Because this person is always right...

No No No, don't get me wrong you are all welcome inside
To the leather couches and the beautiful wooden tables, on them, you will see the vases with the colorful plastic flowers.
Oh, and did you see the walls?
"What a graceful person you are for decorating with such passion and a sharp eye for details" they might say.
But will they come back the next day?

Not if they tasted the ego and felt the lack of sun ray.

So where's the pain you might wonder and ask?

Well, the person "Do as I say" is always has something to complain about.

Without a deep thought, about the horrible words, that person will make sure that she feels bad for not doing exactly as she was told.

"Are you a retard, are you that slow?"

She was left without a soul...

You can tell it's been going on for far too long...

Some might say; that if she didn't die it must have been not that hard to be that perfect one, to take orders every time...

She would cry but the person didn't mind
Maybe after a day or after a while, will enter her room to say "well I'm sorry"

Another 'sorry' for the collection...

No change since and forever.
It's pain no one can describe.

It's like waking up in hell and the soul once again cuts veins.

There's no way to cut right when you're dead and demons holding her standing, for just another day.


Do as the person say and don't make a mistake.
The image on one can live up to.

Nowhere to run, and god is away.
Voices say; sorry but I don't think he's coming back.

How could you survive countless empty apologies?

Toxic air in her lungs and the darkness calls to give up.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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