heyy! so there i am again with another story. this one or rather these ones are a little outside of what i usually do because it'll be multiple short stories (around 500 words) written from song lyrics people gave me. it's sort of a writing exercise, but i'm publishing them anyway. hope you'll enjoy all of these! i'll try to update by groups of 2 or 3 so you'll still have something to read. havec a nice day and thanks for reading!
I've made every single mistake
that you could possibly make
I took and I took and I took what you gave
But you never noticed I was in pain
Alive - Sia
I should be angry. I should be sad. I should at least be feeling something.
I wasn't, though. As my eyes watched the movie that Webber had pulled out of some archive for the funeral, my mind was already gone. Not taking anything in anymore. Not able to.
The only things I could see and hear were the productions of my own mind, in a thing basically called hallucination. I was full-on hallucinating, sitting on a sidewalk on my own, away from everyone, and nobody did as much as throwing a glance at me. The old friends, the people I worked with, people that were doctors, hence supposed to care about the health of others. No one even bothered to check on me, limiting themselves to annoyed or hateful glances and moral lessons that just felt like condensed hypocrisy.
I knew what I had done. I wasn't blind, or stupid, and I had no problem to see how much I had hurt Owen. I definitely didn't need the salt in the wound every time I went to work, as if dealing with a pandemic wasn't enough. I knew all the mistakes that I had made, the thousands of them, I could quote every single one and its consequences. I knew all my flaws, all the things I had done wrong, all the times I should have done better, and they didn't start recently. I shivered. Allison.
It was so easy to do when you hated yourself. Count all the things you screwed up, and then blame yourself for it. A very satisfying trip. No matter how many times I had done it, though, I wished someone had told me how to fix it.
Didn't they see my soul crackling more and more with every sunrise? Didn't they, or rather, he – he was supposed to be my best friend, my person, the one that knew me the best, how could he not see that I was spiraling that fast, falling that down? How, why, did he just give up on me and throw all his hatred at me instead of trying to understand what in hell could be wrong? I knew I couldn't ask for his forgiveness. I had broken his heart, shattered it on the floor like glass, and he had every right to hate me, but were all those years we spent together, all those events fe fought and overcame together, weren't they worth at least a conversation?
Didn't he want to know why? I needed to explain myself, to tell him, and to selfishly ask for help, but I was only faced with the cold blade of his anger, his pain, and his disappointment. Deserved, justified, hurting exactly where my scars already were. You don't need life to ruin everything when you have yourself, right?
It didn't matter anymore, anyway. It was too late. Trapped inside my own mind, stuck into an endless darkness, it was too late for him and his white horse to come around now. He could worry now, or take me home, it wouldn't change the fact that I was too far gone for him to save me.
