Just Another DayDream

    It's quiet in the small lived in apartment. All the lights are out and it's late in the evening, so you can barely make out what it looks like. What you can see though is fairly average. There's a plain deep blue, three seater couch in front of a small coffee table and a television set with two bookshelves, filled with literature, on either sides.
    Behind the couch is a bit of free area, before you meet countertop and bar stools lined up on one side. The other side is an open kitchen area, that looks fairly neat in the darkness. It seems to be the whole room, although there is a dog crate in one corner and a box filled with toys, most likely for the canine. If there's a dog bed then where's the dogo?
    You notice an open door off the right of the living area and head towards it. Inside you find a large queen sized bed with dark grey sheets and colorful pillows. It's a very lived in room and there are things all over the walls and floors, but you pay them no mind for you know this is where you will find the dog.
    He's easy to spot, laying right in the middle of the bed, curled out on his side breathing deeply. He seems to be asleep and you take your time looking him over. He's scruffy, with white fur and random splotches of black and brown and a tail that seems a tad crooked. You don't recognize the breed, but he sort of looks like a mix between a basset hound and a daschund. Slowly you start to reach out, curious as to what the dog feels like, but before you get the chances the dog jumps up and runs right through you.
    You jump, suddenly broken from your trance and follow after the creature curious as to what he's doing. It isn't until you hear a key unlocking the door that you realize the humans of the house have arrived. The dog went through you so, there is little reason to worry about anyone seeing you, instead you lean against the couch wondering who's about to enter.
    A male walks in and the dog immediately pounces on him. He shouts "Bax!" In exasperation, but you know he's happy as he walks in and pets the excited dog- Bax. It takes you a moment, but you feel like the man who just walked in is very familiar to you. He has long blonde hair, that's tied back in a pony tail, pale white skin and eyes that look blue, but also sort of green. He's wearing dark jeans and a green button down shirt.
    The male doesn't stay for long, because after he greets Bax he puts on the dogs collar and takes him out. You're once again left alone in the apartment. You take the time to continue exploaring, the man will probably be back with Bax soon, so you should snoop while you still can. Returning to the bedroom you can tell the man doesn't live here alone, he has a companion, but it's hard to tell if it's a male or female for most of the items laying around are things that could belong to both sex's.
    You discover another a bathroom, that you avoid not wanting to know what's inside and a find a storage closet and a spare bedroom. Although the bedroom is empty, so you collapse on the couch bored. The place is small and very much lived in, and even though it's foreign to you somehow you find this place calms and relaxs you. The front door opens and you find the familiar male walking back in with Bax, he wrestles with the dogs paws trying to clean them, before giving in and letting the dog run rampant in their home. He just sighs and smiles fondly before looking towards the clock hanging on the wall. Seems he's expecting someone, maybe his fellow flatemate?
    The lights are finally turned on while the male goes to the bedroom and closes the door. The dog immediately runs to the door and seems to wait for the male, you smile at the attachment the dog has towards him. A moment later the man walks in wearing a t-shirt, and the dog jumps on him once again before runing to his toy box. The male plays with him for a couple of minutes and you observe wondering why he seems so familiar, why the situation itself seems to scream at you, but you just don't know.
    After awhile the blonde stands and goes to the kitchen pulling something out of the fridge, before setting the stove. It's then that you notice a single picture frame on the windowsill near the kitchen. You seem to jump towards it with a surprising amount of energy. It seems like a family portrait with Bax in the middle and two humans holding him. You can tell that one is the blonde, but for some reason you can't see the other in detail. They're smaller than the blonde man and have short hair, both of them are smiling laughing even, but who is this other person! Most importantly why do you care so much?
    You sigh in frustration wanting to know, but it's not like you can ask. Then Bax catches your attention when he scrambles to the door jumping on whoever is entering. The blonde says something from the kitchen, but you can't hear anything for some reason. You turn curious as to who the other occupant of the home is, but find that instead of turning you end up opening your eyes and are greeted with sunlight. You're struck with confusion, before you realize you must have fallen into another daydream.

Just another daydream. 

The begining of my masks and other crap

    I find it hard to express my feelings towards others, now at least. It's hard to remember, but I think it was easier for me when I was younger. It was easier to be bold and loud when you were unaware of the consequences of such actions. Even then when I tried to hide my feelings I was easy to read, like a book you could say.
    I couldn't lie with a striaght face, without my voice hitching or my eyes looking away. Now it's almost second nature in a strange fucked up way. It's something my father encouraged once I got older, the ability to lie being a highly useful thing in life.
    At first I was agaisnt such a thing, finding it distasteful and just wrong, but after a while I found it easier to lie in certain situations than it was to tell the truth. It became a slow downfall that I easily embraced and twisted into my own being. A beautiful mask handcrafted by myself and worn only when it was necessary.
    It was towards teachers at first and only half lies, after all the best lie is hidden in a truth. It was easy having already gained their trust earlier by being the calm student in class. Eventually it morphed and I started lying to my family. Such an easy thing to do, specially since it was over the phone and I just had to use the right tone of voice. I was really tested when I saw them all in person, another mask was born then- the good daughter. She said all the right things to make that part of the family happy and easily kept in their good graces.
    That mask has been lost overtime, for I have long since stopped caring what they think of me. It means little to me whether they care for me or not. It's easy to guess that as I grew older more masks were crafted and it became easier and easier for me to switch between them. Sometimes it's difficult to tell whether I'm acting a part or being myself.
    This probably explains my inability to express my emotions and be unable to understand them. Which is a curious thing for I still experience them, but just have difficulty grasping them. It took me the longest time to know what Aster truely meant to me and even then my subconscious had to help me by sending me a strange dream. Although me knowing what he means to me doesn't help if I'm unable to express that feeling towards him.
    One of my guilty pleasures is fanfiction, more speciffically slash/yaoi/boyxboy hint hint nudge nudge. If you don't understand than you're either really innocent or too young to be reading this. Either way you shouldn't be here. Please press Alt+F4. Gone? Good.
    Anyway, I enjoy reading about the steady building of a romantic male relationship, because more often than not both of the protagonists have difficulty discussing their feelings or expressing them in certain ways. That or they go about showing their feelings in the most ludicrous of ways that it's baffling to me that they ever manage to get together in the first place. Alas those boys have the power of an author on their side, which unfortunelty for them means they will somehow end up together.
    Back to my point, because surprisingly there is a point, I find it easy to empathize with these types of characters, the ones that are shy, embarrassed, or emotionally stunted because I'm so much like them in some ways. Finding it difficult to express my love to the one I care for, showing it in such small ways that they will likely never notice such things.
    Holding myself back from taking the lead or just letting myself go. Hesitating, because I'm a coward. That's the main difference between those characters and me they stand up and take charge when they must, me? Well I end up freezing, unable to react unsure of what to say, angry at myself for being so unaware of the needs of my partner and unable to do anything to help them. In those moments I'm worse than scum.
    I'm trying to change though, specially after I royally fucked up not too long ago with Aster and Larkspur ended up breathing down my neck trying to keep herself from strangling me. Since then I've been trying to show more, but it's hard sometimes, because there is still a tiny piece inside of me telling me to hold back because Aster will leave one day, they all do and it will only hurt more.
    It's hard not listening to that voice, but I've found it to be easier after I outright told Aster my fear. 'I'm used to people eventually leaving,' I told him. 'It's just a part of life and something that's a normal occurence in my own.' The obvious that means I'm waiting for you to leave as well went unsaid, still I wonder if he understood it completely. I won't lie to him, not anymore, but I still won't tell him everything. 
    I feel like I'm rambaling about nothing. Still I feel as if I'm in a stump. It's difficult to write recently, but I enjoy writing so this is me forceing something, even though it's just awful. I apologize for this horrendous piece of writing, I'll work on it. Maybe write out my daydream.

Till next time

Don't Read This (Just too F*cking Long also unedited)

    I don’t remember the last time I wrote. Maybe, a month ago, but at the same time I’m not really sure. Sometimes I have trouble writing cause I always feel like doing it when I’m laying in bed starting to fall asleep or just kind of laying there hoping sleep will take me soon. Other times I have trouble writing because I know Larkspur reads this. She doesn’t always do it regularly and sometimes only does it ever few months, but the fact they she will at one point stumble upon these. Read them, decipher them and maybe understand them. Well this occasionally holds me back from being 100% truthful that I get creative and throw in a shit ton of symbolism, where sometimes the only way you know what I’m talking about is if you actually know whats going on with my life. 

    There’s also that teeny tiny little fear that someone I know in the world will find these, randomly and by accident. If they ever did than there is little chance that they’d actually know this was mine as very few people are aware of me writing online and again the shit ton of symbolism I use. It’s funny cause I wasn’t too big of a fan of symbolism in high school, I found it difficult to decipher and understand. I’ve now come to appreciate it in a way that only another author could. Not that I would call myself an author. My random ass short stories don’t really count in my opinion.

    Still there have been a few things weighing on my mind recently that keep me awake at night. Yesterday it was so bad I almost went into a panic attack, in order to keep myself from the swirling vortex of thoughts I had to go into a meditative state and focus almost solely on my breathing before venturing into my mind scape. That was the only reason I actually fell asleep last night, I might have to start meditating every night again, because my thoughts have been keeping me up more often than not recently. There is just so much bullshit that suddenly comes to the forefront of my mind when I’m about to fall asleep. During the day it’s easy to block all of them out, because of all the noise around me. I can just let random youtube videos play for hours on end or listen to music, even open my door so I can hear the tv from the living room. That or just focus on my task like a normal human being. Did I mention people watching? Distractions from myself are so easy to find during the day it’s night when I’m worried.

     Recently I’ve been feeling less at home in my house than ever before. I live in my grandmothers home along with my father. It’s a pretty big house with three stories above land and one bellow along with a huge garden. Really the house was meant for six people, but then my grandfather past away, mother left, eventually stealing away Azael, leaving just three. Because of this there are a lot of unused rooms now, my grandfathers old room that acts like a guest room, my brothers room and a random spare bedroom that my grandmother uses for storage. All three of the rooms smell of disuse and abandonment, even though I tend to clean them when I can and open windows when it’s nice. The size of the house and the inhabitants make it unbearable to live there sometimes, so after a while I took to just keeping my doors closed all the time, keeping to my space. My bedroom became home and everything else was just stuff. I guess it made it easier to live in such a huge and empty home, knowing that at one point it was lively and lived in and now it’s the opposite. At one point Aster started coming over every Friday and staying until Sunday, another human in the house made the place more bearable, made it feel more alive I guess. Recently my father went on a week long business trip, leaving me the car with a full tank. When he got back the tank was almost half empty. I ended up driving to school every day, but not only that I drove to Aster’s house pretty much everyday right after school as well. Sometimes I would drive straight there if I ended late enough, others I’d drive home only to drop off my stuff grab a quick bite to eat and tell my grandmother I’ll be back late. More often than not I stayed there till late in the evening, driving home only to sleep and repeat the process. I preferred this over staying in an almost desolate house. I hate it when it’s all quite and empty, only the occasional creaks from the floors or drafts shutting things, because it’s an old house. At night this plays on my imagination, but if I come home tired from being around people all day and being in Asters home well than I pass right on out when I get to bed.

    Sometimes I wish I could erase my memories. Just everything that I had from 16 and under can be whipped clean and forgotten. It would hurt less. Not knowing what it feels like to have a loving family and then suddenly finding out that it’d been slowly going downhill since I was a child, until finally it’s ripped away from you completely. In theory I still have them; my mother, brother and grandmother are in the states, while my father and gram are here, but it just feels forced now. Every time I visit it feels like my mother is cramming in as much affection as possible, spoiling me with food, taking me to old favorites and buying me new clothes, even though I know she’s on a tight budget now. There are times where I feel she only really acknowledges Azael when I’m there. It’s like she wants to remember us always being together ignoring the fact that in reality we live with an ocean between us and it’s all her fault. There are times where I forget that this is all a forced charade, that Azael and I don’t have a secret list of things that we can’t talk about in front of our parents, that we don’t both in some shape or form suffer from depression. Mine was luckily much worse than his, probably because he was just a tad too young to completely understand what was going on at the time. The boy lost a lot of confidence. He became hesitant to make new friends fearing that they would be ripped away from him eventually. Turning to the internet, because there distance didn’t matter and no one could take them from him. He kept up his grades and cleaned his room, that way mother wouldn’t nag and fights wouldn’t break out too often between the two. And me well, I’m just another open and shut case of a child dealing with a dead family, because that’s what they feel like. I hate visiting my grandmother and listening to her plead with me. Beg me to stay or visit as soon as I can. Every time I see her I feel like I see her less and less like a close family figure and more like a distant relative that saw me as a baby years ago. She’s most likely suffering from abandonment issues and depression. I know she’s on some kind of medication and that whenever she takes it she starts sounding like she’s drunk. More often than not I just smile and nod when I see her, trying to lie as little as possible, even though I’m already drowning in non-truths. The easiest person to talk about is the grandmother I live with. Even though we live in the same house I don’t see her too often since there is a door that separates her from the rest of the house. She sort of has her own private wing with a kitchen, living room and bedroom all to herself. There have been time were I only saw his in passing in the morning while making breakfast or just going to the kitchen in general. We tend to just say good morning to each other, sometimes asking how our days are going. Although I mostly just say it’s good and let my grandmother ramble on. She’s sweet but stubborn and I’m grateful that all I have to do is show her that I’m alive, say everything’s ‘good’ and she’s satisfied with that. The only downside is that I have to keep my tattoos hidden from her, although eventually I will show them to her, probably sooner rather than later.

    Over the years my relationship with my father has evolved drastically. When I was younger I was a daddies girl, even had a fucking pink t-shirt with those words written in white sparkles on it. I will admit if someone asked me to chose between my parents I would choose my father. He was the laid back one, the kind one who really had no flaws that I could see. He worked a lot so I only really got to see him in the evenings, but he helped with homework and rarely ever yelled at me. I would do anything to try to get him to be proud of me. I suffered through two or three years of soccer for him, because he wanted one of his kids to play. Let me tell you I was fucking awe full at the sport and I hated all the running. At one point we had the option to learn an instrument which I was super interested in, but ended up not doing because it collided with my soccer schedule. That and when my mom found out I wanted to learn to play the trumpet she quickly vetoed. Eventually I quite and focused more on my grades in school. I was already a b+ student so I bumped it up to all A’s to see if I could get my fathers approval then. Nope, nadda just a good job and a pat on the head. Why’s that, because despite my good grades I was still in the average curriculum and not in the advanced one. If you scored high enough you could be bumped up a level in math or english or both. My father was always disappointed I wasn’t in the advanced math group even though I tried my best and gave it my all it was never enough really. This carried over with the move, but only really held up for a year. I broke in late 2010. Everyday for almost a week I’d been studying for a math test with my father. I felt like I knew the material and was confident I would pass. I put a lot of hope into that test. After changing countries and languages and struggling with everything except english, well math because a secret love hate subject of mine. Love because it was mostly numbers, I didn’t need to know the language to understand the problem and solve it, hate because my brain was humanitarian- geared toward art and writing. Those were my strong point back there, in this new place though they were practically worthless. I got the test back a week later and cried my eyes out alone in my bed room. Eventually I told my parents and all they had was pity in their eyes. That was the day I cracked and and started to slowly shatter into a million pieces. I stopped trying to impress my father after that, no longer really caring for his approval but still sometimes secretly wishing for it. More often than not I wished to have been born a boy, because that way I would more likely be mathematically inclined like my brother. When mother left the house felt very light for a few weeks, the only yelling heard was father trying to force Azael to do his homework. The rest of the time it felt like we were walking on clouds, no longer worried about aggravating our mother, or worried that she’ll suddenly start yelling for no reason. For a short period of time it felt like we were back in our childhood home, where there was only positive energy and love all around. Damn, I sound like a fucking hippie, but that’s what it felt like. Eventually, only my father and I were left. Both broken, somber, our smiles never seemed to reach our eyes we both just existed for a short while. We relied on each other a lot then. Taking comfort in knowing that we survived this ‘war,’ yet also crying over Azael the ‘victim.’ We started talking to each other more, going out and doing things together, relying on one another. Eventually after almost two years my father started dating, he seemed to be healed after that thing we went through. Me, I was better, better at hiding things, speaking in half truths, keeping to myself, shutting things down inside me. My better was the stark black glove that few seemed to question. This is were everything started to slowly change, because here is where Anna come in. Anna was a girl my father started to date eventually becoming a pair. I was honestly happy for him, he left the house more, seemed more cheerful and just better in general. I’d started dating Aster not too long ago so we both had new relationships, although they were drastically different. While Aster’s and my relationship was calm and slow building, theres was like a whirlwind after they set down some ground rules. I quickly became number two in my fathers heart eventually becoming number three until finally I disappeared from his thoughts almost entirely. We stopped going out together, we stopped talking as much and we became more distant, at least I did with him. I don’t think he ever noticed that we drifted apart, that I stopped… He used to tell me about his day, what stupid things his boss asked him to do and interesting conversations he had with his co-workers. He’d than ask me about mine and we would casually talk for a good half an hour. Now though I rarely got anything from him, he started saying work was work so I started replying school was school. He stopped telling me things like, hey I’m not going to be back till like ten in the evening cause after work I’m going out. Or just things he was going to change around the house, what he wanted to renovate, that something broke and I wasn’t suppose to use it. I don’t remember how many times I heard him say, ‘Oh, I didn’t tell you? Must have only told Anna and Gram than.’ It came down to me just being his investment. ‘After all someones got to take care of me once I’m old and gray.’ After hearing that so many times and seeing the drop in affection and care you stop seeing the father and start seeing the jail keeper. Not that I can say I live in a jail, I have it pretty decent. I have food, internet connection, a warm bed and little responsibilities. As long as I play the good student everythings fine. It’s when I break the mold and be myself that my father gets annoyed, because I’m not doing what he wants me to do. Well heres a quick fuck off to you ‘daddy.’ Did you know in the morning I’m a total fucking bitch, especially when I slept like shit? You know what I appreciate in the mornings, quite and just leaving me the fuck alone in general. I’m not a fucking morning person like you are, but no matter how many fucking times I tell you it never seems to get through your damn thick skull. So when you start sassing me in the morning, know this I’m going to be a queen bitch to you, because I don’t want to deal with any of your god damn sass. I want some coffee and maybe food. I want to stop feeling like there’s sand in my eyes and a cloud inside my brain, but I need time for that to happen. So when you start bugging me and pushing your expectations on me from early in the morning than I’m going to flip you off and your expectations, because guess what it’s morning and I could just as easily do those things in two hours. But, no you end up acting the the biggest fucking baby on the planet and start to ignore me. Maybe if I just ignore the adult female that resides in this home I can convince myself that she’s just a ghost and not my daughter. Oh, don’t worry asshat, cause I stopped being your daughter a while ago, there’s no need to worry your pretty little head over it. This is what my relationship with my father has come to- a pissing match. Not a very interesting one either since we’re both content to just ignore one another. I try not to think about him to much, because he just makes me angry. An emotion I don’t enjoy and try to keep locked away, so I try to stick to annoyance.

    So that’s just a small crash course of family relationships. Stay tuned for some more crap.

    Since I’m currently sitting in my uni’s huge as library, not planning on being home sooner than 20, might as well continue spilling my guts since I don’t have anyone else to spill them to. 

    Recently, my brain keeps telling me to break up with Aster and I really don’t know why. Every time my brain brings it up my heart hurts and protests, saying why!? I’m just as confused, because Aster is one of the few people that give any sort of meaning to my life. Any physical affection I get these days, when I’m not over at my moms, is from him. He cares, he writes, he puts up with my stupidity. He does so much! 

    So why does my brain keep suggesting that I break up with him, when it physically pains me to think of such a think. Is it a self defense mechanism? Could it be my brain going, hey you don’t deserve him specially since you’re going to die soon anyway, so just leave him be. Let him live his life. I’m really not sure. It’s not something I could every bring up to him, but it’s something that I will have to tell Larkspur about, maybe she can help me understand this mess.

'Pep talk'

    Well this is new. I think looking at the cliffs edge just a few meters away from my willow. There are so many new changes in my mind space recently, it's worrying but I guess it means I'm changing. Guess it's to be expected with were I am in life right now.
    I sigh and take a seat on the edge, allowing my feet to dangle off. It's exhilarating and the only reason I'm not afraid is because I know that the only way I'll fall into the abyss is if I jump myself. Knowing me if I ever jump that will be the death of this mind and most likely the death of my body as well. There's still time though, not a lot but plenty, this is mostly here as a reminder I guess, maybe temptation?
    You could serve many functions, just like the globe room that I've been avoiding, the willow tree that stores memories and the lake that stores loved ones. Everything serves a purpous here, now what's yours? I could stare at the light grey jutting rock for an endless amount of time, but it'd never outright tell me. That's just the way my mind works.
    Sighing I continue staring into the dark depths, wondering if I can convince some of the fireflies to fly farther from the tree so that there's some light over here. Then again there are fewer and fewer of them each time I come here, best to just let the little guys stay near the tree.
    It's easy to curl up and just space out here, so much easier to relax in here than out there. "It's because in here you block out everything." What? Who's that? I say aloud wondering how there could be anybody here.
    There's silence and I only see a dark green human like silhouette climb out from in front of me, scaring the ever living crap out of me. "Please, don't be such a wuss. It's not like you can come to harm here."
    You and I both know that's not true. I reply, glaring at the shadow.
    "So touchy," It seams to smile, "guess I'll push some more buttons."
    You're a fragment of me, aren't you I ask.
    "Pretty much, I'm that laid back persona you tend to put on whenever you're at Uni or with strangers." I nod in understanding, guess I used it so much it came to life here.
    So what brings you here? I ask casually trying to force myself to uncurl myself from around my knees, but unable to. This shadow made me uncomfortable even if I knew it was a part of me.
    "What brings me here?" It seems to perk up and smile evily, "Well this here is a kick your ass into gear talk!" It raises it's hands and does this happy dance.
What? The hell is this dude talking about?
    "First of all, thank you for calling me dude and not it, yes I can hear the things you keep to yourself, thirdly yes this is one of those stupid ass motivational speeches that so many fictional characters get when they're feeling down." They exclaim finishing by putting their hands on their hips. "Now get up and stop being a fucking whiny bitch. We are all sick of it, except for that one bro, but he thrives on your depressed stuck in place shit."
    I can only look on confused wondering what the fuck was going on.
    "Get up." I stand slowly still confused, but soon I'm falling flat on my ass with a stinging cheek. "There that ought to help a bit." They say looking down on me again.
     "Get your head out of that place. This isn't a fucking movie, book or tv show. No one is going to tell you to get your head out of your ass and press the play button. 
    You wanted to be there and by pure dumb luck you got in, now what are you going to just drop out, because you're unsure again, because it's tougher and you're tired. Well listen here asshat cause I don't want to fucking repeat myself. 
    That place, you should finish that. In orcer to do that you need to work hard and study and sometimes take the initiative. Ya, I know that all sounds scary, but you're already slowly starting to do so, this talk here, ya this is just a bit of a push.
    Alright maybe it's more of a shove and a good kick in the ass, but you get the point I hope." They look straight at me and I can feel myself burning, still unsure.
The green shadow sighs and kneels so we're at eye level.
   "Listen here kid, you can do this. You can finish that school, we all know you can, but it will take a bit of work and sweat. You'll be depressed, because you're not the fastest learner and you are a bit of an outcast, but hang in there. Cause all of us believe in you, even if no one else out there does."
    They  bonk me on the head before standing and heading towards the edge. "That will be the conclusion of this little talk. I hope you remember my words, cause I don't feel like coming back up here again. I better not have to." They finish and I could swear they glare at me before jumping down.
    That was so very strange. I slowly stand and make my way over the edge, looking down I still see darkness. Now though I know what's down there and it makes me want to avoid it all the more.
    I sigh, damn now I really have to try if even my own mind is saying I'm not worthless. And that was my laid back persona? I can't help but snort, before deciding to leave.

Said too much

What do you do when you've realized you've said too much?

When you've had a long week and are feeling stressed and exhausted and just need to talk. But instead of complaining about your week like a normal human being, instead you divulge in something that's been weighing on your mind.

 Something that should have stayed in your mind, but you told them.

They're the first person you've ever told this to. You were planing on keep silent till the end, never letting anyone find out and yet you told them.

 Why?

 Now you're unsure because their reaction was weird. There was anger and saddness, maybe betrayal, but in the end they acted normal around you. Nothing seemed to change, nothing was different, but now after a few days have passed you can't help, but wonder. 

Have I now lost them, because I said too much?

How far can I go?

    Whenever I wake up it's usually to blackness. My eyes need to adjust in order to get my barrings, so I can see the silouhettes of the surrounding sewers. Today though I open my eyes and am bombarded with brightness. It's nauseous and I almost end up throwing up. I shut my eyes while simultaniously dropping to the floor and I just want it to stop. Stop with the brightness, the colors give me back my soothing grey, because I no longer deserve to be in the light, neither do I want to be in it.
    Amazingly, something seems to hear my inner thoughts, because the brightness get turned down a bit, but it's still light. I hate it. Whenever I get brought here it's dark and cool, sure it's also scary and life threatening, but in some fucked up way it's also calming. This though, isn't. I'm not in the sewers instead I seem to be inside of a bright, white space- a void.
    The white is making me physically ill. It's worse than being inside a hospital, there I could at least focus on the sharp tang of disinfectant. The only thing here though is space and light. I contrast with the room seeing as I'm completely grey, even my skin is a grey-ish hue. It's almost like I'm dead and this is my own personal hell. Am I dead? Really I expected to be dropped into some sort of hell or whatever, but I guess everyone gets their own torture room?

    I'm not sure how I should feel about being dead. It should sadden me, but really the only thing going through my mind is relief and longing. Relief, because I'm done with that fucking chore called living. 

Done with school, done with putting up with my fathers bullshite, my mothers clinginess, all the masks, the people, trying to fit in and getting pushed away. Done with getting crushed, because I tried so hard and even though I gave it my all I still wasn't good enough. Done with all of the bullshite that life decides to throw at me. 

    It's definetly not a normal reaction. Normal, non-suicidal humans would probably cry or get angry at the world, but I can't help but feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

 I'm a selfish person.

 How many nights have I struggled with sleep, because my brain just wouldn't shut up? 

How many times have I swallowed down my aggression towards my father, held back the words that I wanted to sear into his flesh? 

How many times have I lied to my family, promising them things I would never do? 

The constant self-loathing towards myself, for being weak, for always having an excuse to do something or not do something. 

Questiong myself and wondering if I really should still be in school if I shouldn't just run away and be done with all of the things that made me hate myself.

 I'm a terrible human being. 

Because all I can feel is relief. 

    I don't have to worry about that anymore because I'm dead. I finally got what I wanted. I fell asleep and never woke up again. Funny thing, I always joke about death, suicide and dark thoughts. It's a fucked up type of dark humor that I enjoy. I wonder if anyone ever noticed that I was asking for such things? Or maybe I thought if I joked about it more people would suspect me of being incapable of doing such a thing. I wonder if Aster ever figured out why I wear a black glove?
    Only two people know why. One understood after I told her I was cutting. Another I told years after the scars healed and wanted to keep him from doing the same.
    My life wasn't difficult or hard, it was just emotional. So very emotional. That thing that I barely understand and struggle to use aside from the basic's. I wonder if I'd ever get to a point where I understood them, at least a little. I'll never know. Just like I'll never know what Larkspurs life is going to look like.
How Azael is going to move forward. How Aster is going to find himself. I won't get to see so many things.

    That explains the longing.

    Somehow in the white expanse I see a fox, but to be more exact, an arctic fox. Which is amazing, because those fuzzballs are white and that's all there is in this room. It stares at me though, with it's piercing black eyes, beckoning. 'Follow me' they seem to say 'come lets find the weasle.' Then it's off and for some reason I start running after it, because I'm curious and there is little else to do here, but contemplate about my life's choices.
    Sometimes I feel like I lose sight of the fox, but then I spot it again running, until finally it stops and stares straight into my soul. 'Come, let's find the weasle.' It seems to say again, before jumping into the ground. This baffles me and I run up to the spot where it disappeared only to find a hole in the ground.
    It seems to lead into a black abyss and for some reason I hesitate, because as much as the color soothes me it's also a great unknown. Here I'm dead, gone, done with the world and all its bullshite. If I go down there though, I get the feeling that I'll be thrown right back into that shitstorm.
   I sigh sitting near the edge. I finally have what I've been wanting for a while now, but here I have this opportunity to continue. To see other 'interesting' things, see how my precious people make their place in that fucked up world.

Fuck my curiosity, still I want to see how far I can go.  

Snow Globes

    It's a strange sight to fall into your mind and find something unexpected. After all this is your mind, you should know it better than anything else on the planet. That doesn't seem to be the case for me, because when I enter my mind I'm not greeted by the usual cloudy field and lone strange-colored willow tree. Instead I'm in a room surrounded by bookshelves that seem to be filled with snowglobes.
    Curious I walk up to a shelf, because really these things can't be bigger than the palm of my hand and I'm itching to see what's inside them. I take a step towards the nearest shelf and almost immediatly step away. What's inside the tiny, glass globes? Me, or at least a version of me. In each and every single one there is a tiny version of me.
    This is confirmed when I walk around the room, just glancing at the snowglobes, but never really seeing what exactly is inside. What is this place? As soon as the thought comes to my mind a door materializes and I open it. On the other side is my usual mind scape.
    My meadow filled with colorful gas clouds, my strange, lovely willow and small pond with poppies and forgetmenot's. So this must be the bird room, except it's changed, because I'm no longer suppressing my emotions nor letting them run free. I've changed so the room has morphed as well. Curious, how very curious.
    The room intimidates me, but I return to it, because I have to learn to understand it or at least try. Emotions were never and are never going to be my strong suite, but I refuse to go to a psychologist that will tell me what they mean, so I'm gonna have to figure them out, little by little.
     I return to the previously abandoned rack and this time carefully pick up one of the globes, surprisingly the tiny me inside the globe reacts to this movement and sticks her tonge out at me. She than goes back to jumping and running around. She seems to be ammusing herself and if I bring my ear closer to the container I can hear laughter and her voice.
    This must be ammusment. It's hard to think this is anything else really, specially since the me in this looks to be a few years younger. I place the glass back and a label appears with the word 'ammused' written on it. One down, only a billion left.
    Instead of going for the one next to it I choose one off a different shelf. This me doesn't react to being picked up, just curls in on herself a bit more and continues to stare out the glass. Saddness, maybe but it doesn't seem quite right. I continue to stare at the globe, when I notice that tiny me is holding something. They look like pictures, but I can't make out what's on them. This must be longing then. I put the glass down and again a label appears.
   I do this a few times, identifying anger, sadness, joy and boredom, until I stumble upon one that frightens me a bit. It's hard to describe what emotion this could be, but tiny me is older than me, her shoulders are droopy and her hair is shaggy. She looks much too thin and is starring at the sky. It feels like I'm intruding on something, which is strange because this is my mind, but I feel an intense urge to look away. Still I observe what's going on in the sphere, because curiosity run's through my blood. I should have looked away.
    Older me looks up straight into my eyes and smiles the saddest smile I have ever seen before saying something and taking a single step forward. She's immedietly swallowed up into the darkness and I drop the globe to the floor. I stumble to the door and quickly try to escape from the room, but suddenly the door is gone and I'm stuck, stuck inside this dark room filled with things I barely understand.
    That was older me, being swallowed up by darkness, but not just any darkness, that was her giving up and taking that one step needed to end her life. That globe symbolizes utter defeat, being completely crushed, having your will to live drained out of you. I knew that I had such a dark side to me, it appears fairly often in my thoughts. I even have a fucking end date, but seeing that dead and broken look in my eyes with the saddest fucking smile on the planet. It makes me want to throw up. Instead I end up dry heaving on the floor while my body shakes. Whether it's from fear or disgust I'm not sure, but all I can do is wait until it passes.
    After what feels like an eternity my body seems to calm and I stop shaking. I look for the fallen globe expecting to find shattered glass, but instead see it intact on the other side of the room. Slowly I grab it and find myself slightly relived to find it empty. I don't look at it again worried that I will reapper, instead I carefully return it.
    A label pops up, but for some reason I can't seem to read the words written on there. I must not have understood it completly, which means that's something I'll have to reviste. Not something I'm looking forward to.
    Looking behind me I see the door and decide to try it again. This time it's unlocked and I can't help, but let out a relieved sigh. I never want to come in here again, but I know I'll return. This is something I have to do in order to grow as a person.