Perfectly Pathetic

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

for the voices that are not heard.

The heat of a Liberal vacation burns down upon your resident conscious regret, reclining its pressure deep within your intertwining despair, but her blinding beauty stuns Your eyes hauling them towards the frosted sands that line her halcyon waters, reflecting your dark vision. Her appetizing complexion draw you into her elegant arms. But then,the warm salty water seeps through any rational emotions, dragging you into an existential suburb beyond your control. You know its wrong, and her bewildering grasp is pulling you further away from your true feelings. But its easier this way. Easier to escape them, rather than face them. It feels so cliché to admit to yourself that this is a problem that’s worth everyone else's pity. The abundance of sensation is like a silent wave of confusion and anger screaming at you in a never-ending ripple of pain and sadness. Although You looks accomplished, affectionate and jubilant, your voice is faded, your wit is un-familiar, and your dignity stooped low to accommodate her compelling arrogance. You desperately search for a single specific justification to this shameful torment that racks at your heart but a murky smog drowns your perceptive attitude. She looks at you bluntly from across the room and that fake smile is too obvious to cover up with her patchy make-up no matter how hard she try's. Because she try’s too hard. And everyone but her can see it. The tragic story of the complicated, pretty girl who cant help but draw attention. But behind her colourful wall lies the faint, pale petals of a wilting flower. And everyday those counterfeit friends she chases around like they were the only thing keeping her on earth ,water that flower admitting its broken and whine about how they want to help it blossom, but really, truly, their not pouring water, their pouring spite, and it hurts, but she too weak to recognise the constant grief. So she thanks them for the pain and everyday she dies just a little more, not knowing the cause because they smother her with the lies that her naive helplessness aches for. Its not just them, those “friends” though. The Parents that expect perfection. The boys that smirk from the corner of the room. The judgemental glances of the popular girls. The look from the one guy that makes your heart flutter for a split second before reality rips into your happy fantasy. The “Fit” Friend make you feel fat. The “Happy” friend makes you feel sad. The “Sarcastic” friend makes you feel small. And that “Sad” friend, well in reality she’s you but to everyone else your that understanding, accepting, kind friend because only you know the hurt and diminishing feeling that strives for happiness so the best you can do is give it to other people. Happiness. Dreaming of the day you are set free from the chains of anxiety and Depression. But, and there’s always that but that just hides in the back of your mind invariably showing its deformed face every now and again, coming to nip at your heals telling you that your feelings and emotions and true drive is wrong, its selfish, its stupid, not good enough, irrelevant and foolish . And the worst part, there’s no one to tell you its wrong so you believe them. Those shouting voices, angry tones, piercing insecurities dig at you until one day theres nothing left to dig at, theres no point.


Submitted: May 06, 2020

© Copyright 2021 creatingideas1. All rights reserved.

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