When I move they judge. When I eat they judge. When I speak they judge, scheming their next power fix. Their victory slices my confidence boosting their ego at my expense. They feed off me like a vampire feeling energised and proud, leaving me to feel drained and tense. To them it is a game, but to me they are parasites, boosting themselves at costs to others . Maybe I don’t understand. Maybe they don't understand. But I do know that I’d rather be me. They are dull inside needing these external clutches to keep them alive.
The next day is the same. What can i do? A barrier is blocking me. I am trapped in a box of torment torturing me about my looks, feelings and relationships with others. Anything I say is reflected back at me like a
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My room is taunting me. Threatening to spill my secrets, spinning them like a cyclone tearing me apart. What don't I understand?
Capture. Another day here again. Entering the gates of hell being swallowed whole into the belly of this monster. Every now and again I hear this bell. It tells me to escape but keeps me in its clutches. It feeds me to its pack of monsters. Everyday they feed off me absorbing my willpower and strength leaving me to rot inside.
I have always thought what was wrong. People always used to say I was over reacting, taking it too far. But this thing that surrounds me it hides behind laughter. A smiling face who acts strange and weird to make you smile back. It is nothing but a mask worn to shed light on others, in an attempt to keep others from the darkness, the lonely, bitter darkness. It makes your fingertips feel ice cold. As you lay there in the dead of winter. You feel your heart beat slower as you close your eyes and try to erase your thoughts. Yet, they manage to flood out as you battle to contain them.
Recaptured. Again in its trap with eyes glaring into the back of my neck, freezing all my movements. I turn to my right. Its that boy again, with his blue eyes staring back into mine, capsulating me into a trail of thought. It made me think maybe there are other people like me, trapped in a world of social anxiety and judgement. I walk over to him pushing past chairs. I feel like i'm the predator now going to collect my prey. I
It starts like this… ‘When I was young kid, I had an extremely big room, with my bed in the corner directly opposite of there the door was. My parents always made me close the door when I went to bed! as well as pull down the curtains down completely, I’ve never been scared of the dark and I knew my way around that old room in my sleep. Never had anything odd happen, either, until one morning I woke up much earlier than usual, it was around 5am-ish and I was hearing voices. I immediately recognized them as not being my parents, at the start they were whispering. I can’t remember what they were talking about, but I remember that as soon as I quietly, quietly said;whilst I was being paranoid. they grew louder fast, and more voices started talking at once. I was quite panicky, worried and scared at this point. I scrambled out of bed; I was going to tackle this as it came! I tried carefully making my way towards the door with the voices keeping growing louder, I heard some of the voices starting to laugh, and I distinctly remember them laughing in a very mocking manner, taunting and mocking me for something, but I didn’t not know what! When I finally reached my door and just pulled it open, everything was silent IMMEDIATELY, like all the laughing stopped. All the talking stopped. All the mocking stopped. Nothing like that ever happened again, and when I told my parents about it a bit earlier they said they both didn’t hear anything, and
My feet are like bricks as I shuffle them towards the vortex to Hell. The creak of the garage door greets me with penetrating death cries over God knows what. One kid sprawled on the concrete, another using his lungs as a weapon, and yet another banging her fists on the one that screams. Nevertheless, my presence does absolutely nothing but make the fighting rise rapidly like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
First, imagine what it would be like for you to go to the park with your siblings. While you are there having fun, some strange people show up. These strange people begin to eye and look at you like you are a piece of meat being
the fear of the beast grows, however, it becomes a hell in which fire and fear
I used to be proud of who I was. I used to be free, but I’ve fallen, slowly stripped bare of all I was and could have been. I resent them, those who gruesomely ripped me from my haven and shackled me beneath their feet. I resent the world for abandoning me in this hell, leaving me to suffer. I resent who I have become, a puppet, used only for their entertainment. The devil only grows within me, plaguing my mind during the sleepless nights. Feeding images into my mind. Images of their blood splattered across the walls of their beloved blue and red (tent). My teeth sinking into the fatty flesh of their neck. The horror painted on their faces as I gleefully avenge the loss of my sanity. And I detest myself. I loathe the satisfaction that I feel fantasising about their murder. I fear myself, and what I have become under their control. I yearn for the days I spent in my
My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.
There is blood on your hands. On your hands and in your hair and dripping from your hands and fingers onto and fuck fuck fuck-- You can’t breathe. The thing inside you (sinners go to hell) rears up its bitter, vengeful head and roars and crunches you and eats you whole (make it stop) until you can’t breathe. You can feel it, growing inside you (it’s the monster the monster the monster) the hatred, spilling into your heart and flooding over, into your lungs, dripping onto your intestines.
A monster awakens in my stomach, a storm starts brewing ready to erupt inside me calling me, signalling me to feed it. It calms down for now, but it hasn’t finished yet, it was just the calm before the storm, a signal that I should feed myself. I try to stand up and forget about it, forget about that sensation of wild array of flavours and textures that piece of bread created in contact with my tastebuds two weeks ago. It is only then that I realise that I cannot get up, my legs feel weak and my body fails to abide by my commands. The feeling starts again, only this time it’s the monster eating away at my inside.
The pain was gone. I couldn’t feel the warm goo running down my face. I was...glad...that the pain was gone. But now there was a new pain. My mind felt like it was being pulled from somewhere in different directions. “Are you alright?” Suddenly there’s a voice. The pain dulled when she spoke. Her voice was like an angel, (Yes, I know that sounds cliche) but it’s true. Her voice was as soft as a cloud’s depiction, as sweet as a butterscotch candy. She sounded like she was as graceful as a dragon in a story. No matter what she did it was a beautiful flow of movement transformed into an art. Like something you’d never want to look away from. “Don’t be shy, You’re safe now. Come, follow my voice and you shall see the grace of the clouds and the eternal light from the sun and stars above. You can see all of the beauty in the world as if you were there. Come, follow my voice, and the wonders of the world are yours to experience. “Wi-Will I see you?” I ask her. There was silence. A long pause. “If that is your wish.”, she finally said. I moved. I actually felt like I was moving, like I was walking. I started to run. The pain from my mind was dissipating. I was almost there, I could see a silhouette in the whiteness. I felt clear, at peace. It felt nice. I found the source of the voice. She was incomprehensibly beautiful. She looked down at me, her eyes were full of kindness. She smiled lovingly at me, like she knew me. I paused. “A-Are you my
They told me I was getting a “roommate”, more like cellmate. I haven't spoken to another human,or at all frankly, in 246 days. I wonder why they there are being thrown in this place. Well I guess I thought so much I fell asleep.I wake up to hear them outside my room. They walk in, and instantly I start to freak out. IT'S……….A……….BOY! How dare they! I-I think they are trying to kill me I mean why else would they do this to me? I can barely speak so all I say is “You’re a b-b-b-boy”, I am so stupid who says that, apparently me. He looks familiar, but that's impossible so i ignore it. He takes my bed and his to make one big bed for himself. I Would say something but I don't. He keeps asking me questions, but i'm not going to answer because
I was your prisoner, you wrapped me in skin tight chains I could never escape from. You knew of everything I could’ve ever wanted and now you’re the reason my life was brutally taken away from me. I remember it quite well as I watched the blood flow out of me as if it was escaping the walls that has held it captive for 18 years. With the door wide open, and bright red blood- stains on the carpet, it was easy to tell what had happened. The demon who had taken my life will be found, and will no longer cease to exist.
Im letting the dark take me over. If I fight it it'll only become stronger. I'm letting them intertwine with my mind and I'm slowly becoming bad again. The thoughts are coming back but only its stronger. I'm becoming more and more emotionally drained day by day. I'm trying to keep myself from doing bad things and god it is so hard when you've become so addicted to the pain. I just want to be good again and I know I'll be back, I know I'll be myself again soon. I just tired, tired of battling everyday with yourself and your own emotions .. It's so exhausting
Hell. The word conjures up a familiar image of a fiery landscape, a nightmare vision where tortured souls suffer in endless, unspeakable torment, and where Satan commands an army of demons to unleash infinite pain across multitudes of sinners. This picture, etched deeply as it is in the minds of over two billion Christians worldwide, mainly stems from the late Rabbinical Judaism view of hell, Gehenna. Dante’s epic poem, Inferno, builds on Gehenna, with an elaborate underground society devoted to the souls of the fallen.
I fall into its madness and surrender to its hold Claws of poison from within calling dooms day to begin. Sick children of my mind you win- I can't believe.
Every morning, I would stare in the mirror and coach myself to wear a fictitious smile, and how to make sure my true emotions never shone through my phony persona. I told myself that my job was to make others happy before I made myself happy. “Tell a few jokes then maybe they’ll never suspect a thing”, I thought as I interacting with my peers on a daily basis. “Be funny, smile, laugh, tell a joke, laugh, smile, be funny”, I repeated these phrases like there was a broken tape recorder in my mind. Small and simple words with barely any meaning, but those words kept me going. If you 've ever asked me if I was okay, I would quickly gather my thoughts smile then nod while whispering small and quick “mhm” to make sure my lie was believable. Lies. As I lie in my bed I whisper and tell myself that I 'm fine but behind my eyes lies an immense amount of cries. I knew I needed help, but it was up to me to figure out who I wanted to be. I went on a quest to find myself, but I found myself running in circles like I was in a maze that had a beginning with no end. I was lost never to be found so I went searching and continuously came up short because I found that I couldn 't find myself if I had never met myself.