Young Writers Society

like to live in daydreams where I’ve mastered everything, and now I can’t escape them. Yet, there are nights which pass by thinking about my present. I decided to write it down and this is what I ended up with.

I don’t care about anyone. I thought I was heedless, but nonetheless, I also managed to convince myself that nobody cared about me either. I never felt secure; all I see in everyone’s eyes is judging, judging me for the way I am. ‘I’ve never judged anyone.’ – a lie I like to tell myself every time my brain shows me the faces of everyone on the streets whose eyes happened to look at me while I walked past them.

I was looking for an escape. I didn’t care about the world. Peace was the concern, nothing else mattered.

The nights were good, they always came but the days never disappeared. My days went by waiting for nights, wasting the nights thinking about the next day, and repeating that all again.

I was in my thoughts, asking myself again and again, “Is it worth staying around?” I wake up every day at the buzz of the alarm - too sleepy to distinguish whether my eyes are open or closed. This was autumn. The mornings are filled with dust, waiting outside to get in my nostrils and kick start the sinus headaches. I wouldn’t say I like this, but the summer wasn’t great either.

It’s October. I remember myself on the same day last year – feeling, asking, thinking the same things. Yet, today felt even worse.

People go through struggles magnitudes higher than mine. I have bad feelings, but some have been experiencing them as reality.

I got myself thinking about suicide again:

People commit suicide, but are they the ones to go through the worst pain? They may not have been through some of the worst human pains. Being through pain out of their limits makes them consider jumping off the top of a building and ending the whole of their existence on the concrete sidewalk.

Young, I don’t even know a heartbreak, and I still think I’m at the lowest point in life.

I know, I’ll have to go through the first time for anything new I decide to do. The first time is the time that hurts (or the opposite) the most.

Lying in bed and thinking today is the all-time low of my life every night, doesn’t make a lot of sense. But certainly, it’s true. If you haven’t experienced your all-time low through some sudden trauma, this would (probably) happen. Remembering this as a single point in your life is easy, going through it is hard. I have notes I made a year ago going through the same feelings, but it seemed better than today, which might very well not be true.

“Every new day is my all-time low” – said to myself which left an impression in the emptiness of the night. I’m thinking without words, seeing the patterns on the ceiling, that got dirty as a result of not being cleaned for years.

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Thinking stopped and I snapped right back into the reality. It was morning, I didn’t notice it till now. I need to get out of bed. I lost weight and I was still going to skip breakfast. The sun’s rays hit my eyes reflecting off the leaves which refused to move. There was almost no wind, yet if I go out I’ll have a few dust particles hitting my face. There was judgment in the air. I could feel the wind trying to tell me something but turning back, thinking I would judge. I was too afraid of judgment.

I went out. The barely blowing wind felt nice, it made me lose sense of where I was. I found myself in the middle of the road, a biker was losing his mind blowing the horn, and he passed just a few inches short of hitting me and making the next few days a mess. He was calling me crazy as he was passing by, but my heart didn’t even rise a little. All that happened was I grew colder. I didn’t talk to anyone that day.

Now I was going through the sidewalks. The sky was covered with broken clouds which reminded me of my past childish dreams:

I saw the smithereened sky

I took my fragment

I want to look through it

But gave up before taking a glance

Now, I can find pieces to reconstruct

But I know myself: I’m not even gonna try

The other was saying to me:

“It got shattered in the past

Better not be thought of in the present”

There was a time when I could have saved it

It was falling in front of my eyes

My dreams were falling

It was getting harder to sleep every night

“Better let it go” – he said

And I let it become unrecognisable pieces

Now they are no longer what I want

And the world knew none of my mind

I kept them a secret ‘cause I dreamed of something that could not be shared

I wanted peace and it can never fall

I wasn’t ready for the misery of the world, so I made my life miserable. I know it’s not a good life to live, nor a good life to die with. But I’ll have an interesting story to be told if I die today. The only problem is, nobody knows what it is, and nobody ever will. What’s that story? Better leave it to never be discovered.