Undo My Life ONESHOT.
Posted by Reporter on Tuesday
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Dedicated to christine . . . I have a feeling she’ll get this . . . 
. . . . . . . . .
She was a tortured soul.
The kind that held it all in the pit of her stomach.
Why?
Because this was the safest place. it couldn’t affect her mind, her heart, her feelings . . . none of them worked correctly anyway.
She would force her pain & concern to the deepest crook of herself and ignore the creeping thoughts . . . until the pain became so excruciating that she just cried.
She loved the tears.
They were almost tangible proof that she was . . .
Emotional.
Regular.
Innocent.
She had parents who didn’t even attempt at her whirlpool of problems.
Who would care, though?
They were the people who were allegedly supposed to care for her, love her, give her the strength and conformity to crawl through each day.
But she never got that.
She never felt anything but toleration of her actions from them.
She felt lost.
Broken.
Hurt.
Worthless.
Although, she appreciated the feelings.
They were metaphorical proof that she was . . .
Human.
Secure.
Normal.
They defended her lost innocence.
Those without feelings are no longer the child they once were.
And that was all she wanted.
To be the child she once was.
Her childhood was her happiest time.
Living in ignorant bliss of the disturbed world that lay as a backdrop to her aimless games in the sand.
Who wouldn’t go back to that time?
The period of your life where you could skip to the beat of whatever nursery rhyme played in your head.
The period of your life where no matter what anyone told you, you knew that your dreams were still within reach.
The period of your life where adversity and struggle and grief and failure and humiliation could never mentally break you.
The revelation of her own wound’s created the girl that she was now.
The girl she was.
The accident she was out of wedlock.
The harm she caused to anything that came near her.
The depression she dwelled in after the destruction of her loved ones . . . or to-be loved ones.
The judgement everyone whispered while she stalked through the halls of her hell.
She missed the innocence.
Maybe . . . Just Maybe, if she could have grasped, or so much as taken a glance upon that hidden youth . . . she wouldn’t have died so young.
She wouldn’t have taken that razor and slice at her wrist without a second thought.
She wouldn’t have continued with these sinful actions until she had to move to her right arm.
She wouldn’t have had to wear sweaters in an attempt to cover the scars she thought were shameful.
She wouldn’t think that even though she felt no pain with every pierce of her skin she knew that there was no escape to the endless despair she felt with every moment of her life.
She wouldn’t have been found by her 4-year-old sister.
She wouldn’t be on the waiting list to her destiny of heaven or hell.
And even though she didn’t live her life while she still could . . . she wouldn’t miss this place one bit.
And I’m the envious one.
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Submitted By: BlueeSkyysGreyClouds
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BlueeSkyysGreyClouds Sequel To Xxwriter53xx’s ‘Life’ One Shot Maybe.
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