My Pain and Sufferings

Empty Heart

FICTION

I rarely show any feelings to anyone.

I pretend I'm happy, even though I don't even remember what true happiness feels like.

I put on a mask everyday, to hide my true nature.

To hide my true self.

Afraid that they will reject me.

I rarely feel guilt, not even after I took away the life of that dying cat.

I remember it clearly..

I remember holding my scissors above it's head.

And I remember it's eyes staring at me. Knowing what comes next, it lays it's head down.

And I remember the sickening sound of my scissors tearing it's flesh apart, ending it's life.

I remember blood gushing out.

I remember when I left it's corpse, and going to the school bathroom to wash the blood off without even looking back.

I remember a tear escaping my eye.

And I remember seeing my reflection in the mirror.

Staring back at me with a cold, lifeless stare.

I have forgotten how to feel.

I forgot how to be happy.

The only feeling I could feel is anger, sadness, and hatred.

And the only way I could make people like me is to observe them, and be the 'friend' that they want me to be.

I can be a listener, a shoulder to cry on, a joker, or even that one friend who's always happy.

But it's all fake. It's just a lie that I made up.

None of it is real.

Call me pathetic if you want. It won't make a difference.

I've been trough countless things that slowly turned me into this feeling less monster.

The first true pain I felt was when my dad beat me with his belt, leaving scars that are still visible until today.

The second was when my nanny grabbed the back shirt and pulled it until I suffocated.

The third was when I realized I wasn't ever enough for my parents, no matter what I do.

The fourth was accepting the fact that neither my family or my friends will accept me the way I am.

The fifth was when my favorite cousin sexually abused me more times than I can remember.. and instead of fighting it, I simply pretended to be asleep.

Ashamed, and afraid that anyone will find out.

I kept my mouth shut.

The sixth was when my best friend left me. And when I put all the blame on myself.

The seventh is all the cries for help I let out at night. Hoping someone will hear and stop my suffering.

The eighth is all the charades that I put on in front of my friends because I was scared to show my true self.

The ninth is realizing all the pain I put upon myself. Physically and mentally.

The tenth is for all the times I pretended to be happy, hiding my true feelings.

The eleventh is when I resigned myself to loneliness and exile, the day I completely sealed myself from others.

Unable to trust again.

But even after all the pain I went through, nothing could've prepared me for the heartbreak he brought upon me.

I clearly remember his cold words.

It pierced my heart over and over again.

Everything started becoming more colorless and dull.

Life is no longer meaningful.

Yet I am too scared to end it.

The only thing I could do is to hold in the pain.

But I still find myself crying every night.

Looking at my reflection, begging myself to hold on and be strong.

Slapping my face to stop the tears from flowing.

And talking to myself, hoping for a reply.

I merely wish that I could stop this pain.

But I soon realized...

That I liked the feeling of dread clawing my heart out each and every single night.