heavy-hearted | fillie

one

hurt myself again today
and the worst part is there's no one else to blame
—————

She sat on her window ledge, looking out at the sun setting as she fiddled with her thumbs. She was calm considering what was running through her head at that moment.

The fresh bumps of cuts that devoured her skin was like a ladder up her forearm, representing each time she couldn't handle the pain in her own head anymore. It was painful, agonising even. Not the physical cuts, no, but her mentality was drained in a bath of absolute numbness that the cold razor against her skin didn't even make her flinch anymore.

it wasn't enough.

Nothing done it anymore, nothing satisfied her or got her excited enough. She missed the simple feeling of excitement, that little scream in your chest that you just let out from sheer happiness that you can't hold inside any longer.

Sad, isn't it? She missed a common emotion. She longed to feel it, she also longed to feel loved; to feel wanted and desired.

It was like she was constantly exhausted, she was not motivated what so ever, with anything really. She wasn't motivated to get up and get dressed when it isn't necessary. If she didn't have college that day she'd just stay in bed all day, only getting up to get a slim bit to eat, drink and go to the toilet, maybe even take a shower in order to scrub away the thoughts with a harsh loofa. She wasn't motivated to complete assignments at home, even if the deadline was in two days and the laptop was sat right in front of her feet. She doesn't even open it, she doesn't even start the first sentence.

All she wants to be is motivated - well, not even that she just wants to feel like she actually needs to make an effort like the other girls at her college. With the makeup, boys, clothes or any of that type of shit that people her age care about. She was 19, excited about nothing in life, not even her future.

That's how her dark slump started, and it continued and gotten out of hand and way worse than she anticipated. The windowsill was cold between her bare legs but she kept in her place, forehead resting on the glass as she fiddled with the ring on her finger. The only thing she felt was the calming sensation of the sun setting which she witnessed rarely. She wasn't about to take advantage of that because of her cold legs. So, she stayed. Staring out of the window with the same scary, disturbing thoughts running around in her pretty little mind.

Her lips became numb just even thinking about the subject. Her thumbs twitched a bit and her palms became sweaty, whether it was out of desperation or fear, she had absolutely no idea. It's like she couldn't wait any longer, the faint voice of her mother whining about god knows what downstairs made her anxiety go through the roof, her heart rate picked up and for some reason she found herself even more determined than the previous second.

She sighed, climbing off of her window sill before just standing in the middle of her bedroom. Her legs felt dead from having them crossed for so long so she paced until the feeling grew back.

Maybe now she was ready.

Come to think of it, the only friend she really had was Noah and not to be cliche or anything but she really did have no one but him. He was her solid rock, her muse which made making her decision that more difficult. She couldn't imagine her being the source of his pain but that nagging voice at the back of her head repeatedly told her that he probably would not care at all.