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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Religious · #842587
Knowing that someone is always there for you, please r/r/r
** i would really like some reviews for this oneplease :) **


Imagine sitting alone, in a dark room. The world is black around you, no one seems to care. You hear the softest sound in the corner of your mind; it’s like a faint whistle. The tone is so beautiful that you try to chase it, you find yourself grabbing at the sound, but the further you reach for it, the further it goes. Tears fall down your cheeks; they seem to be the only thing you can feel. You feel utterly alone, no one is ever there for you. You want to hug yourself, to seek comfort in anyway, even if only you can provide it, but you can’t move. All you can do is sit on the cold, hard floor, looking at that one spot on the wall in front of you. The tears start to fall faster, harder, and you want to scream, or at least sob, but your voice is paralyzed. You are lost, but you know exactly where you are. It’s the scariest thing in the world.

If you can imagine that, you know what its like to be inside of my head. I don’t understand why I feel like that, but I can’t talk to anyone. If I tell anyone that I’m lost inside of myself they will look at me strange or even laugh. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be so lost unless you feel it to, and in that case, you would never be able to tell me; for all you know, I could be another liar, another person that is closing in the walls around you, making it darker and darker.

Sometimes, I really do want to scream. At the top of my lungs, just to let all of my anger, frustration, fear, loneliness, my everything out. But, if I were to do that, you would think I was crazy, and another layer of that cold stone wall would go up.

I worry so much about what you think. You are everyone, everybody, anyone who doesn’t understand. I want to pretend like I don’t care at all. Go ahead, call me ugly, call me fat, call me stupid. Fine, I don’t care. But, I do. But, you can’t know that. If you knew I cared, you would make it worse on me. The taunting would get so much worse… I wouldn’t be able to live.

I have tried before. Tried to die, because all of this pain can’t be worth what I’m going through. The pills didn’t work, the knife was too dull, the balcony wasn’t high enough. But, I couldn’t tell you that.

I must sound so spoiled, so conceited, to care about myself so much. It’s just another thing you can use against me. I want to cry. To let out all of the pain that is bottled up in that little, dark room. But, I can’t do that.

I have never needed someone more, needed someone to talk to. I need someone that is not you, someone that won’t critique, yell, whine, moan, cry. That’s why I turn to Him. He will always be there for me, telling me that I am right, that that little sound that I couldn’t grasp before is getting closer and stronger. He always helps me smile, helps the tears fall, helps the screams come. When I do scream, remember, I am not screaming at you, really, I am screaming at everything. I am screaming to open the door that I didn’t see before, to brake down the walls, to let the sound wash over me in a sea of love.

He always lets me scream, He lets me go. He let me write this, He let me cry while writing this. But, you can’t know I believe in Him, you will laugh at me; tell me ‘How can He be?” I don’t know the answer, but I know He will always be there when you are not. I will hold still.


So I will turn to Him!
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