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Angsty Writing

Hi, okay, so I was just trying to get rid of some of the writers block I've been having and I decided to just wing it and start writing what I was in the mood for  which turned out to be an angsty, semi-depressing little snippet of some random last thoughts, I seem to have a tendancy towards making all my angsty pieces last thoughts before the person either dies or kills themselves. But for whatever the reason I wrote it and I decided to post it on here, just something I thought would be nice, personalizing the things I write on here.

Anyways, the story is temporarily called 'Suffocating'


I let my fake smile fall, the true sadness overtaking my whole face, the deep hurt rose to my eyes. I was so tired of playing a normal, happy person; I was so lost nothing was going to save me. I was nearly dead to the world, emotionally frozen in an eternal, dark abyss of hurt. I hated putting on the lie for others, if people really knew how I honestly felt they would have thrown me in the nearest asylum. No one saw what was actually behind my smile or actions, no one looked deep enough to see.

People looking but not seeing what was really going on around them, how I was so close to breaking, how often thoughts of suicide crossed my mind. I'd once had religion, once believed in God and feared Satin and his imps, now that was all gone. Washed away like my happiness, like dust in the wind. I got into the old oxidized car and drove to the bridge, the bridge that would end all.

No one saw me as I stepped on the walkway, as I pressed too close to the guardrailing, or as I leaned too far out for normal confort to others. They only looked when my scream was wrung from breathless lungs. I was tumbling through the air, rushing to meet the hard ground beneath me. I heard the hollow thud of my nearly lifeless corpse crash, I felt the sticky, melting goo cover my head, coating my eyes in a read, filmy halo. The halo turned black as I faded into the bottomless well of depressing hell.



( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 18th, 2008 04:47 am (UTC)
River memories
Your story reminds me of the time I stood at the river’s edge in the wee hours of a cold winter morning pondering my life's fate. I remember inching closer to the icy waters as despair fell over me like a warm blanket. I remember staring into the water, and then I remember feeling the cold rush of the water as I was swept over the slippery round boulders with eyes wide open looking at the watery trees as they rushed by. I remember holding my breath and then realizing that I didn’t have to because I could breathe the air in the cool liquid that suspended my body in its weightless journey down the river. I opened my mouth and drew a deep, cold stream of…
And then, I was standing on the same rock at the river’s edge, as if my eyes had just opened and I heard a voice, unknown and forgotten, say, “Stop thinking of poor pitiful you.” I can’t recall where I had heard those words, but I understood them at that precise moment. Those words pulled me from the deep, dark pit of depression I had fallen into and they continue to push me away when I wander too close to the brink again.
I, too, had let the pain walk me to the hand of depression. I thought the pain was unbearable, I thought I wasn't worth the effort it would take to overcome all the problems I could conjure up.
It's been many, many years since I stood pondering my fate on that river's edge. I am worth the effort it took to climb out of that pit. I've found many of those joyful moments that are hidden from us until it is our time to see them on our journey, if we decide to continue. Life is worth living, and its never always easy. You never know who is waiting for you. For me, it was my grandkids.
Its amazing how powerful your piece was, to me. Powerful enough to reach back 20 years and pull a memory, full of emotion, with vivid color and feeling through the veil of time.
Sep. 18th, 2008 05:17 am (UTC)
Re: River memories
Powerful writing. I, too, could identify because I've also experienced deep despair which made me question the reason(s) for my continued existence.

I (with much help and support) came to see exactly how valuable my life was...and continues to be. Now, I do my best to take advantage of every opportunity I have to uplift, encourage, support and compliment others.
Sep. 19th, 2008 12:42 am (UTC)
Re: River memories
Everyone needs support with depression once in a while, it's not something you can overcome by yourself. When you're in the black depression you have an incessant need to put others down, to drag them into it with you. Some of the most severely depressed people can turn out to be the nicest of all.
Sep. 19th, 2008 12:31 am (UTC)
Re: River memories
Well, I have to say I really loved your comment. It definitely made me see another point of view that was in the piece I wrote. The women in my family do tend to suffer from a mild depression so I know what that's like. My sister, it's her terrible fate to suffer from some severe depressions at times, I remember one time, she wasn't even out of high school and she'd already tried to commit suicide. Right now she's better, she has a boyfriend that is really nice and she wants to have a child. I suppose that's what pulled her back, the thought of being loved and having someone to love.
I honestly don't know if I should be happy that it was good enough to make you think back or not, memories like that don't usually make people smile when you do think back on them. It's been my experience that sometimes, memories like that are preserved better, longer, more fully in your memory than the most happiest moments of life; the mist life's experiences poses on the human memory does nothing for certain memories.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )



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