Random Writings || Vixlemix

"Crying."

A Short Write made a few months back, unsure of the date.

As they back-read through old messages, tears rolled down the brunette's face. The messages they were reading were all ones that had reminded them of happy memories, memories of times they had been brought up when they were down. Even so, they cried, because those were memories they were unable to remake, those were with some people they no longer had contact with. So they cried, they cried as their parents words rung in their ears, as they were unable to clear their mind no matter how hard they tried. It wasn't working, it wasn't gonna work. Thinking of old memories unfortunately don't do the same thing that living those memories do. Reminding yourself of what has already happened, just reminds you of what has now been lost. It wouldn't bring back the laughter and joy you had when those memories were created, it'd only remind you of how it made you feel at the time. They missed them. They missed their old friend's voices, their texts, all the long conversations and night long calls. But it was all gone, with the slimmest of chances to ever being brought back. Like losing your contacts in the ocean, they're gone, lost, impossible to find in the large sea. The chances you'll ever find them, is the slimmest one could ever think of. The brunette tried to wipe their tears, as they kept flowing down. They couldn't stand it. They couldn't stand what their parents would say to them, how their parents disregarded their emotions, and how their parents acted. The brunette just wanted the words to get out of their head, even though they wouldn't. The words spoken by their parents repeated over and over again. Both things they had said recently, and in the past. All negative in their own ways, hurting the child mentally. So many things such as "we don't want to hear your voice." "She wants to become fat and lazy." "Ungrateful brat." "Grow up. You're a teen already stop being such a crybaby." "Oh shut up. You just don't want to do it, stop making excuses." They tried to play music over it all, but that still didn't help. They desperately wanted to message their new friends, after all social interaction is always what helped them. But something told them not to. That their friends get annoyed with their sudden messages and spamming random stuff until they replied. So instead they cried in silence. With no one to talk to, with no sense of comfort, as they questioned so many things. But the one question that refused to leave their mind, was one they'd been asking for a while, and sometimes, like now, had wanted to find out. "What does being dead feel like?"