Sweet Colors of Twilight

To be kicked when you’re down
To feel like you’ve been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
& noone’s there to save you.

Welcome to My Life – Simple Plan

It has all come back again to haunt me and taunt me. What am I? Nothing but a pawn in this sadistic game, where the winner lives in eternal bliss and the loser is cast in stone to be discarded for the rest of his life. And all I ever wanted was perfection.

She sits silently upon the concrete ground, her legs dangling over the edge. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins as she peered down at the vast darkness below, peppered with little twinkling lights. It is quiet up here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city down there. She has often wondered what it would be like to fall through the air, basking in all of its glory and feeling the cool night breeze brushing her cheeks.

The hurt goes deep, miles into skin and flesh and bone. Deep into where there is nothing but my soul. The hurt is invisible and inreversible and vile, finding its way into my very core and spreading itself through my veins, mingling with my blood. I want to get rid of it.

She draws out a penknife from the depths of her pocket. The wind ruffles her ebony hair, and plays with her dress. it tickles her bare skin and dances across her cheeks. She smiles mirthlessly.

A flash of metal.

Cold, hard, undaunting metal against her warm, soft, vulnerable skin. A quick flick of her wrist and pain shoots up her arm and through the rest of her body.

A silent cry of pain.

She bleeds.

Life’s sweet nectar. The price to pay to get rid of that hurt. I hiss in agony, the knife going down once, twice, thrice. I’m bleeding. The pain strikes deep, but not as deep as it should have gone. I can still feel the hurt laughing at me, twisting and writhing about. Failure, a tiny voice smirks. You’re nothing but a failure.

I scream.

She gets to her feet, A trickle of ruby red makes its way down her arm, to her fingers, to dangle at the tip of her fingers.A single drop of garnet appears on her bare foot. There is a jagged streak of lightning – opulent against the stretch of velvet that was the night sky. Thunder rolls in the background – a tense beginning for a new story.

The raindrops fall to mingle with the dark red trials and her salty tears.

I scream and I kick, and someone grips my arms hard. It’s back. They’re back. They’re never going to leave me alone. They’re never letting me go. Not until I give them what they want.

Suddenly, there are more pairs of hands pulling me, voices begging me. The whispers in my head telling me to give up, just give up.

I grasp weakly at thin air. I want to be free. I don’t want to be perfect anymore. I want to destroy every single ounce of the pressure that is shaping me into what I don’t want to be.

I cry.

Her lips part in an anguished, ear-piercing scream that rings out true in the night. She draws one bloody hand across her face to wipe away the tears, but she can’t tell if the wetness on the back of her hands is blood, rain, or tears. Shs tilts her head up and lifts her arms to embrace the rain.

She crouches down, huddling into a ball, and begins to cry all over again.

Broken.

They mock me as one by one, they circle me. They try to ensnare me with their tendrils of black. They call out, their musical voices morphing into something taunting, something evil, plunging into my brain, burning in my ears. I try to pry my eyes open but I cannot. They stay screwed shut.

Noisy. It’s too damn noisy. I let loose a wild screech. 

They think I don’t know that they think I’m insane. They think I don’t know what goes on in their heads. They think I don’t know that all they want to do is tear me apart, layer by layer, while I stay helpless.

I must get away. I will give them what they want. Give it all away. I’m tired of fighting, of trying so hard for something I know I can never attain.

Closer and closer to the edge she inches, until her toes curl over the edge. Everywhere, everything is masked in a cloak of gray, indiscernible behind the curtain of rain.

She rocks slightly, just so that she loses her balance. She tilts forward, more and more. She finds herself falling into nothingness. Blast after blast of icy air hits her, and showers of cold water rains upon her.

So this is what it is like to fall through thin air, knowing that there is nothing at the bottom to catch you when you fall, when you cry, when you break, when you die.

She feels herself coming in contact with something solid. There is no pain, no hurt, no agony. She has left it all behind.

Is this what perfection feels like?

A clamour of voices.

“Oh my god!”

“Is she alright?”

“She just fell from the sky like…”

“…a lot of blood!”

“Call the ambulance, somebody!”

“…just a child…”

“…what the fuck?”

It’s over. 

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