Till the monster and she became one.

Lying with her favourite book in her hands while listening to the heartwarming music no longer switch off the floods of negative thoughts from demolishing all her confidence.

Clocks ticking, hearts beating, eyes blinking, and issues being born. Nothing would stop anything from coming up to her head, nothing would make her feel better about herself, and nothing would make anything feel the same. The weird feelings kick into her like a stranger knocking on a house’s door right away before the dawn; unusual but she accepted them all in since she has nothing to fear. She has been through the worst of reality and fantasy. She has been in all the nightmares and strange is no longer strange to her.

She thought of seeking help. She needed to save herself from her own mind and its battles, she wanted someone to suck away her negativities and fears. She knew she could face them on her own, but her body was a leaf on an autumn. The apathy’s ink has overflown in her blood and no mosquito would suck it all away. It has blended with her blood and polluted her heart with blood of monsters till the monster and she became one.

Every single person has smoked a roll of her soul leaving the ashtray as reminder of the pieces which has been uprooted. Help was so far from being helpful, and fire was being thrown on her lifeless ashtray of her soul. No fire was lighted, but more scars were made. With every inch of a scar, an issue was born and saadness was snuggled below.
She lost her trust for everyone and everything, even herself. She lost the ability to believe in anything, even what she has always lived for. Her memories stopped becoming memories turning out to be actual nightmares that she could only relate to.

She found it hard to be committed to anything. She lost the ability to get attached to anything since all her strings were broken with every person she has attached to and ended up walking away, leaving her gazing at the strings that can’t be fixed. It made her feel uselessly used.

She never knew about all of those issues until someone pointed them out. She regretted giving someone the chance to analyze her and remarking her flaws. It made her feel naked and bare with no shelter to hide below. Her soul is full is cracks and gaps where safety finds no home.

She knows a lot now.  She knows she is weak and exposed. She knows she misses everything and everyone. She knows she won’t find home in people. She knows her favourite books are there. She knows she can’t have them nor lose them. She knows she they have made her feel worse about herself. She knows they have screwed her up. She knows that they have once put a smile on her face, yet she knows they have replaced it with an eternal depression. She knows eternal can change, but she can’t do it now. She knows her inner monsters are there, and she knows they aren’t on her side.

She knows she’s on her own. She does not complain.