A Voice Unheard- Part I: Prose

Freedom at the End

She opened the door as quickly as she could, fumbling as she tried hard to put the key into the lock. After many failed attempts she succeeded; the door was open. Darting in quickly, she slammed the door. Dropping everything that she had carried home, she ran into her room and jumped on the bed, crushing her pillow to her chest. She began to cry, her body shaking violently with each new wave of tears. The hot tears streamed down her face, stinging her, making the pain far worse; much more difficult to handle.

It's all a pattern. And things just don't get better, she thought as she sobbed some more. And that's what it was. The more she tried, the more mistakes she made. The more she wanted anything, the more she watched someone else get it. The more she wanted to be loved, the more she was bruised, wounded, hurt. It was always the same story; more friends lost due to some faux pas- a statement wrongly construed or a gesture misinterpreted. Basically, it meant more pain and more feelings of hate. She hated herself. She hated everything about herself. Her face, her heart, her soul and most of all her life. Nothing ever seemed to make sense! The older she got the more pain seemed to arise.

And people, merely made it harder. The innate selfishness that is ingrained in the very fabric of the human mind was the hardest to combat. People's words, and teasing mannerisms; their glib remarks, were the worst. But nothing topped knowing that you couldn't have what you wanted, simply cause lady luck was on someone else's side. She sighed, and her heart pounded violently against her chest, threatening to break her frail ribcage. I don't have the energy to do this anymore. I can't keep 'hoping' that one-day everything will be okay. I can't keep crying myself to sleep. And I just can't keep blaming myself for something that isn't my fault. She thought.

All thoughts were blurry and came in a rapid succession that made it hard for to clearly understand each new stream of thought. As usual nothing made the slightest sense. Rubbing her eyes, she rose slowly; walking at a deathly slow pace to the bathroom. Placing her palms on the bathroom counter, she gazed at herself sceptically. Her black eyeliner was smudged, on her cheek and here eyes were red. Her cheeks were also stained with tears; they were sticky and hot. Her eyes had bags under them that made her look pained and sleep deprived. She stared at herself for a long time, with feelings of contempt and dislike flooding her. Dislike and contempt for the person staring back at her; the lie, the waste of space, the tainted soul, the broken spirit, the dying heart that dared to look back at her.

Is that what's become of me? A broken battered bruised and shattered human? Someone who is tired of everything and everyone; who doesn't have the strength to take anymore of life's messes? Is this is all life is? Loneliness, pain anger and hurt? Is there nothing more? She thought as more tears rolled down her cheeks. I don't have it in me anymore, to pretend and to hope and to believe that things will change. I don't have it in me anymore to smile on the outside while I know on the inside I am dying. I can't play this game of lies anymore. I can't HOPE anymore. I have lost that ability to be optimistic when my life is crashing down around me. I can't smile and cheer as someone else gets yet another thing that I want and that I love. I have lost the ability to watch in silence as someone else gets what's mine. But then I don't have the ability to fight for what I want either. I don't have it in me to fight for what I want or whom I want cause in the end I know I'll lose that too. I am tired of struggling for everything. By now she had crumpled to the bathroom floor as a new wave of sorrow had flooded her. Putting her head in her hands she sobbed some more. I am so sick of being left out; so sick of being powerless, and so sick of being unable to do things, that others do. It's too hard to watch others do something and reassure myself, that it's better for me not to do it too, when I know that in the end, it doesn't really matter what I do. She hugged herself tight as she sobbed some more. For a long time she stayed like this, crying and shaking in the tears.

Suddenly her head rose and she sniffed. Something had dawned on her. Rising she reached into the medicine cabinet. Rummaging inside she pulled out a small box of pills. Filling the glass on the counter table with water, she downed the glass along with 8 pills from box. The effects were almost instantaneous. Her head began to take a deep dive. A plunge into the dark nothingness. She staggered back to her bed, and lay down. Closing her eyes, thoughts raced through her head. It was all one big blurry haze, or rather a set of hazy images, that were one flying through her head.

None of them made much sense, cause of the pace at which each memory flowed in her head. It was hard to stay on one memory for very long, as she started feeling the pinch; the effect of the pills were strong as they began to overpower her. She took a deep satisfied breath, she had quickly decided not to fight the feeling and embrace it. This was exactly what she wanted. An end. An end to the madness. Some peace. For everything to just fade to black and for time to stop spinning. Or at least my time to stop, she thought, allowing herself a smile. This is good. Very good. Pretty soon I'll be free. Her eyelids drooped, diving dangerously into her lower eyelid. Again she smiled, and further allowed herself a chuckle. Taking the final step, she closed her eyes and squeezed her pillow closer to her chest, laying her head on it.

And that's how they found her, three days later; hugging a pillow and smiling in what seemed like the most peaceful looking sleep ever. She had a serene smile that would deceive anybody, and mask any of the pain she had in her. No one would have been able to tell just how bad she felt. Even after her death, she was the perfect actress. Perfect at hiding her pain. It was indeed a skill. As for her soul, well it was free. There was little doubt of that. She was free from the human-corrupted and highly overrated mechanism called life. There was not a day more that she wanted to live and be strong, she couldn't pretend anymore. It was too hard and it was so much in vain, that it didn't even matter.

But she was at peace now, gaining freedom at the end.