Angsty Oneshots

The Artist

This story implys self harm. If you or anyone you know are hurting please reach for help. You are loved. And you are worth it. There could be triggers in this story. You have been warned.

Darkness. That's all I see. I've been trapped for nearly an hour, but I don't know how long I can stay in here. I knew I should of listened to my mother before it was too late. My life wasn't always darkness, I used to live out in the light with my family. She always told me to be careful, but how was I supposed to know that he would hurt me. I've been struggling on and off again with him. He always told me that I was special. Then he would tear me down and rip my heart out. I never could of guessed how far my fall would of been. But I think that is true for everyone. We all struggle to fly only to fall in the long run. I'm not a negative person nor am I just in a bad mood. This is my life. My life is more than a mood or a phase. Isn't that all life is? A phase. I'll try to explain how I ended up in this phase of my life, but in order to do that you need to know two things. One, this man that has chased away my happiness was someone who I never could of expected. Two, my fall left me broken and unable to get up.

When I was younger before my plummet I was always in the light. My darkest days were mere shadows compare to the true horrors now a days. I spent my days running around with my brother. He is my support in my unstable life. He was always there for me and vis versa. We were bonded siblings. Ruling the world together. Then the earthquake happened and my support left me by myself. That was my first fall. My second was when my mother left me alone with him. My shadows became darker. He ruined my life. Darkness consumed me. Shortly after my mother left I became an artist. I loved to use my body as my canvase. But I only drew when I was alone late at night. I've always been proud of my artwork and how I created it. Most thought my artwork was too dark, but I never showed them the whole picture. My brother would visit every now and then, but I swore to myself to never show him my artwork. He was never into art. He much rather shoot hoops than pick up a pen, and that is alright with me because I much rather be the artist of the family. My mother used to dabble in art, but not the same type as me. Now she works with people to make the world better. My father doesn't play sports nor draw. His passion comes from breaking objects. And that is all I am, right? Just an object ment to be broken. My father was my third fall. He broke me down and prevented me from flying. After the arguments I ran farther and farther down the rabbit hole. On the other side was my mother. She pulled me to my feet. My mother started erasing my drawings from my canvas, but that's the thing about drawings they never truly leave.

How did I end up in this new darkness? It started with an argument. And ended with more drawings then I've ever created. I looked down at my work and smiled to myself, I'm finally a real artist. Ink ran down my thighs before hitting the bathroom tiles. Ink is always so messy, but in the end it's worth it because the feeling of putting thoughts down on my canvas is relieving. After my drawing was cleaned up I was still falling. I tried to catch myself only to trip faster down into the darkness below. The only way to get back into the light was to draw again. I created one more masterpiece with more emotions then I've done. The darkness consumed me again the only difference was I actually saw the darkness enter the room. I screamed, but nothing came out. I was alone. Alone in the darkness. Darkness. I'm trapped. Stuck falling with no sign of escape. As I was giving up hope I see it. Light. I step out towards the light leaving behind the darkness. I see a figure standing over my body, but that can't be me because I'm right here. It's my mother she is crying. I start crying as I slowly realize that I don't feel a pulse. A cloaked figure approaches me. I panick. They grab my hand and tell me to say goodbye. I hug my mother one last time. She doesn't react. I slowly walk away wishing that I never started drawing.

If your an artist please reconsider. It will hurt the people that you love. Please ask for help. If not for yourself for me. Thank you. See you in my next story!