28.
You feel the thoughts go through your head as if they have just surfaced. Though, the truth is that they have been there forever. They've sat deep in their cold chamber waiting for you to feel happy. It's like the emotions going through you when your car hits a small bump and you just know you've killed some creature, if you're of a kinder mind. You get out and look. You see its guts protruding from where they should be on the inside. Smaller creatures eating at them from inside and out. Though, you see you haven't killed it. That it was someone else. You get that feeling that is a mix of remorse and disgust. Except the thoughts are for yourself instead of the creature or killer. They stay hidden until they feel you need them to hurt you. They make you feel as if you are being selfish through your cold selflessness. You get that hatred and anger towards yourself mixed with the sad and dreariness of all the things you've become. You get that stupid feeling that somehow pushes you to cry. The tears are few and go quickly out, this caused by your sickness, but the feeling is fine with that. It makes you feel as if you are sick. As if everything around you is crashing down like a plane with blown engines and broken propellers. You feel as if the things you've let stick are being ripped off. No. They are breaking themselves free. They are running from you. They are sick too. But not like you. Because of you. Because of the things you are and aren't. The world sits high and mighty like the dictator it is and smiles at you. That wicked smile that makes you hate. The one that makes you feel so low and weak. The one that lets you know what horrible pain is going to smack you next. But leaves out when so that you panic through the void that is between the times. You smile through it all. Laugh at the jokes. Say that you are enjoying everything. But that is only when their faces are looking upon yours. When they turn it goes back to that face of sadness and regret and slight horror for the things to come and have gone. You go back to being the child sitting alone in what should be a soft, white room. But somehow isn't. Back to the child that should have no blood flowing or air flying around inside. But somehow does. Back to the child that was forced to be an adult at an early age. Forced to see the darkness of the world and take it like it was normal. Back to the child who forgets the years of supposed childhood. Forgets all the true joy that used to sit inside her now dieing smile. The one that doesn't remember a goddamned thing but the dark memories that haunt her rotten soul. The one that feels so hurt and lost all the time that she can barely manage to stay calm when only slightly pushed. That can feel the clock inside just ticking away to an unknown time where she will explode into pieces so small that she will disappear so quickly and never be thought of again. Even by those that were trusted.
29.
You grasp at the slick side of the log upon which you are holding onto. The strong currents carrying you farther and farther down the water. You can feel it tugging at you. Pulling you under every few feet. Choking your mind and blurring your vision. It's trying to drown you. And you're coming close to letting it. Very scarily close. So, you reach out for their hand to pull you back up. To save you from the fate you've seen play over so many different times in so many different ways. But it isn't there. They've finally forgot about you. They've finally let you go. Set you free like all the others. All the others that couldn't help you. Couldn't save you. You trust absolutely no one with your life. But they were as close as someone could get for you. They still are. Give or take a little. You feel more alone though. You feel as if they trapped you in a box and are listening as you suffocate. They hear you scream, they see your pain. Yet now they do nothing. They let you sit in all of it. They let it smuggle your pathetic life away in crates. You scream as the water sweeps you closer to your shared edge. One last scream to echo through the world as your eerie and weak goodbye. You then let go of the last lifeline you ever had. You whisper your final goodbye and let yourself sink. Water pours into your lungs and simultaneously pushes you off. You fly. Fly right out of the pages of your faded story with all of the happy parts ripped out and shredded to pieces. You fly through the air in a sickening free fall. You know what is going to happen to your already mangled body. Though, your crooked, twisted soul doesn't care. You fly until your face is few seconds from the jagged bottom. Where the water is trickling around so methodically. Letting you drift into a weirdly calming state where you feel at rest. And then you hit. A sickening crack echoes through your ears and in your mind as you make contact with the rocks. You lay there in a flowing pink liquid. Can feel the immobility of your body. Can feel the dark red and black poison drip from out of you. You make pictures in the funny liquid. Pictures that you don't even understand. Pictures that should mean something to you. But don't. You also lay in the thoughts you tried to escape. The thoughts and events and problems and mental unstabilities that grabbed at you and wouldn't let you go. The ones that built up so many times that you are even shocked that you made it this far. They sit there. Just waiting. Hoping that you will really fall off an edge. An edge that you created yourself. An edge that you are willing to fall off of.