Status: short story; completed.
Fortress
1/1
Broken down, I cry for all the lost dreams and false hopes. A shadow looms over me. I wipe away the tears and force a smile.
I look up, but instead of a friend to help, a demon appears to crush my soul deeper into nothingness.
I cry out in pain, but no one comes to help. They're all out dealing with their problems, too consumed to notice a friend is slowly fading away.
Slowly fading into the background, slowly fading away from myself until I am unrecognizable when I look in the mirror.
Why does no one care? If they do, why don't they stand up and confront me? Are they afraid that if they do, they will push me over the edge?
Brick by brick, stone by stone, I build. I build a fortress over my heart.
Originally there was a wall, but the wall was too weak to protect me. It let the sorrow and weakness in, crippling me into defeat. Unable to defend myself with what little strength I have.
Do you understand? Please, understand that I cannot utter a word about my fortress out of fear of what people would say, what they would think, how they would treat me.
I fear the names, the gossip, the talk. Will I be sent away? Will I be deemed crazy and sent to a mental institution? Will the hatred I get push me off the cliff of my life?
A hole, wide open and gushing out blood, unable to be mended. This hole is my heart and soul; the core of my being.
Can no one fix it, is it beyond repair? Must I live with the pain all my life, however long or short it may be?
Does my pain me nothing to you? I know someone can, will, or has seen it, if only a glimpse.
Do you want it to eat me away, away into someone recognizable to myself and others? Away into a depression too deep to be pulled away from?
Slap me, hit me, beat me, scream at me; torture me until I have opened my fortress. I'll cry out and fall to the ground; opened wide for all to see. Make me stop pretending, make me face a reality where I cannot hide. Every single thing about me would be known to every person I know.
I am screaming out to you, trying to make you see things you wish not to see. I'm showing you images of my life, and memories I cannot bear, yet I bear them out so you will do something. You must know me enough to know that I will not take action myself, that I need someone to do it for me, to shove me into the spotlight.
I am giving up, and I have finished my fortress and plan to spend my days locked away, showing just enough of myself so that people will never notice this side of me.
I will stay in this fortress, hiding away. I will stay here, trying to repair myself, suffocating in the blood that freely flows from my heart.
I look up, but instead of a friend to help, a demon appears to crush my soul deeper into nothingness.
I cry out in pain, but no one comes to help. They're all out dealing with their problems, too consumed to notice a friend is slowly fading away.
Slowly fading into the background, slowly fading away from myself until I am unrecognizable when I look in the mirror.
Why does no one care? If they do, why don't they stand up and confront me? Are they afraid that if they do, they will push me over the edge?
Brick by brick, stone by stone, I build. I build a fortress over my heart.
Originally there was a wall, but the wall was too weak to protect me. It let the sorrow and weakness in, crippling me into defeat. Unable to defend myself with what little strength I have.
Do you understand? Please, understand that I cannot utter a word about my fortress out of fear of what people would say, what they would think, how they would treat me.
I fear the names, the gossip, the talk. Will I be sent away? Will I be deemed crazy and sent to a mental institution? Will the hatred I get push me off the cliff of my life?
A hole, wide open and gushing out blood, unable to be mended. This hole is my heart and soul; the core of my being.
Can no one fix it, is it beyond repair? Must I live with the pain all my life, however long or short it may be?
Does my pain me nothing to you? I know someone can, will, or has seen it, if only a glimpse.
Do you want it to eat me away, away into someone recognizable to myself and others? Away into a depression too deep to be pulled away from?
Slap me, hit me, beat me, scream at me; torture me until I have opened my fortress. I'll cry out and fall to the ground; opened wide for all to see. Make me stop pretending, make me face a reality where I cannot hide. Every single thing about me would be known to every person I know.
I am screaming out to you, trying to make you see things you wish not to see. I'm showing you images of my life, and memories I cannot bear, yet I bear them out so you will do something. You must know me enough to know that I will not take action myself, that I need someone to do it for me, to shove me into the spotlight.
I am giving up, and I have finished my fortress and plan to spend my days locked away, showing just enough of myself so that people will never notice this side of me.
I will stay in this fortress, hiding away. I will stay here, trying to repair myself, suffocating in the blood that freely flows from my heart.