Sad

Journal entry from 8 March 2024

Today I feel sad. I don’t even know why. It doesn’t matter if it’s you that reads this. Or doesn’t. Or will. Or won’t.

Tomorrow maybe I won’t be so sad. Maybe I will. Or I might. Or I shouldn’t. I can’t know. Or don’t want to. Or won’t.

I have lived an invisible life. It has taught me the substantial difference between being looked at and being seen. Nobody sees me, but I have always been a pretty thing to look at. And touch.

My mind is all that has ever been allowed to be my own and there are monsters taking up residence there. Today I can’t be home in my head and I can’t be out here anymore. The world out here is a freezing sort of flame.

I used to be terrified of being forgotten. Now that I know so many people have forgotten me I worry about it less.

I try not to look at happy faces when I’m sad. I try to remember that I’m allowed to feel this way. But I can’t get home and you all see me drowning here. Gasping for air and smiling to keep the peace.

How many more days like today do I have to live in? I am a happy person trapped in a sinking soul and a broken mind. And I’m too tired to even put in the effort to elaborate on what that even means.

“Tired.” I don’t remember how it feels to be just “tired.” Seems like a dream now.

DEEP INTO THE NOTHING

As a bloody hand gripped it hard, the harsh texture of bark caused a sharp bite of pain to rush up an arm. The hard pounding of blood being pushed heavily through a constricted chest was overwhelming. Ragged breaths seeped in repetition through cracked and peeling lips.

As the light in the darkness started fading into view, dark russet dirt became evident as it wound through tangled undergrowth. A prickle erupted on the back of a neck, sweat beginning to stain a forehead, and the knowledge of something far crueler than darkness splashed at the edges of a memory. The memory echoed from behind and urged the scenery of the dark forest to move away from it.

In the distance there was nothing; an infinite expanse of space in which there was the absence of everything. As the echo from behind settled in, the trees began to blur with speed on towards the expanse. In a fury of anxiety, small objects became evident in the undergrowth. Small trinkets of a childhood that never was were littered through twigs and dead things.

The echo roared.

Deep in the expanse, there were tears falling down a face as it pushed through low branches and twisted bramble.

White light penetrated everything until the suffocating memory of nothing was the only thing left. A breath was drawn in and out quickly, followed in succession by dozens more. The smell of dead leaves moistened the cheek pressed against them. Slower the succession became. Daylight spilled into view in short bursts, and the ground was pushed away. Orange and yellow foliage spun around a time or two before curiosity drove the forest floor down and out of focus.

The rough texture of drywall fell under fingers encrusted in filth. A curious eye looked through to the other side and was inundated. Beyond the wall, steam and smoke wafted in circles. A breath caught, and harsh coughs rang out through the hollow air. There was nearly-molten metal tangled around itself and twisted into the resemblance of a steam engine as harsh waves crashed down over its edges.

An earth-shattering scream pierced the walls of a rural country home.