Desolate

Looking at her life from the outside would only lead to her criticizing her. Judging her from her flaws, the way she dresses, the way she speaks, the people she meets, the way she falls so hard, the way she is easily deceived. Dissatisfied with her achievements, wishing there was more, wishing she could reach higher and wishing she would stop whining.

All her tears describe the desolation in her life, longing for that love, craving for that touch, desiring those soft whispers against her ears, dying for that warmth. The people she let slip through her fingers, the relationships she threw away, all for one that is her. The way she hid her pain beneath her laughter, the way she smile above all her troubles.

Questions fill her head “Is there a place where I can just let all this out? Is there someone to just listen to all this trash, surround me in that aura I want, shower me with that affection I need, let me be vulnerable just this once? I am tired of being strong but I guess there is no breaking down from how high I have built my walls.”

She tried reaching out, there was a hand to hold, but even that faded away in time. The distance grew wider, the noise started consuming her thoughts, the air grew colder, just like that silhouette disappeared into the darkness with no more light to show her some hope, and her heart grew faint in all subdued pain. “I’m used to it” she tells herself as it was not the first time.

A routine it became when she is driving by herself, she rewinds and tears stream down her cheeks, the past she wishes to erase and the questions she wishes to evade. The scars remained like a tattoo on her. The only way to prevent people from seeing them is to quit talking. “If only I could disappear” she thinks to herself.

She is not easily broken for she has become... me.