A second chance at sanity

"self"

Tw: suicide ideation.
~res ad vitam necessariae-the necessaries of life.~
Tired of healing - Noah Henderson

She hated herself. So much so that she winced at her own actions, spat at her own reflection. Cursed her past with the malice of a wicked witch, you know the kind they antagonize in children's fables. She had dilemmas. So many dilemmas. And she went into debate mode everytime she thought of the way she treated her dear brother Sven.

In the city of Anima, family was everything. And anyone who went against this was considered an enigma. An eccentric bigot that went against what was considered a pivotal aspect of ones life.

There was this place in her mind where she went whenever she wanted to escape. She called it the hole. The hole that took and never regurgitated. The hole that made things disappear. Gone in the blink of an eye.

She stared at herself. Her blonde curly hair that was unruly and untamed. Her freckled skin that looked paler than usual, it lacked its usual honey tinge. Then there was her mauve eyes, eyes that looked dead. As though they had lived multiple lives all in one.

Although she wasn't staring into a pool of water, her image was distorted.
Contorted.
Damaged.
Disillusioned.

Like her mind. Her mind that for some reason kept playing the past over and over. Her mind, that was like a slab of glass. A mirror, shattered and left to pick itself up. Piece by piece.

"Listen here Mui, the sleepless nights have to stop. You're on the verge of a stroke."

She stared back at her reflection nonchalantly.

"Listen here Mui, not everything is a fight. You can't always be what everyone needs you to be."

"Heal."
"Heal."

"I know what it's like to despise yourself. To loathe every aspect of the haze known as your perception. To struggle to give yourself the grace you give others. But you have to fight Mui. You have to fight."

She seemingly sunk into the cold floor tiling. As her world became even hazier. The desperation in his voice was like a frayed rope, snapping gradually as she hung over the hole. The stupid hole that had decided to close for once.

For once.

Once.
Once.

We only live once. Yet life is everyday for some. And for others life was yesterday. All that precedes is drudgery and pain and toil and suffering.

She fills the bath with water and strips. Then she gets in.

She gets in and submerges herself in the silence. The cold.

And she forgets.
And she loves it.

The silence. A world away from the voices. The voices in her head. The voices that won't leave her alone. Not monstrous or ominous or bad. But deceptive in the sense that they seem trustworthy. But they aren't. They're like a friend. A friend whom you entrust with your deepest darkest secrets. A friend that weaponizes them against you.

Digs a knife into your chest and says,

"Heal."
"Heal."