The lengths that I will go to forget everything are infinite and vast. But my mind isn’t, and never will be, a blank canvas. Yet I try and change this, because I radiate desperation. I yearn for a blank canvas, a clean slate to my mind. A replacement for the depressive and woeful thoughts. I crave to be a completely new person, a new human being. I am not content with the body that I possess, the thoughts that claim to be a schism of me.
I do not wish to be an associate of this string of incomprehensible words that threaten to tear my entire existence apart. The occurrence of draining thoughts telling me to slit my throat, to down an entire bottle of pills and close my eyes, welcoming the silence and soothing darkness. Slowly taking me away from the world that claims to be accepting, the society that claims to function for every individual. I am an outcast, a spare tyre that no-one wishes to use, the scar on your body that you hate. I do not belong here. I do not wish to be here, trapped inside a body of which I despise.
Emptiness is I. I am emptiness. I lack emotion in the pit of my stomach, yet emotion fills the depths of my mind of which I am unable to escape. I am a prisoner of the darkness that leaks inside every single nook of my mind. Alluring shadows trail the tracks of my brain, befriending me, deceiving me. These shadows are not my friends, they are the opposite. I am not an advocate of things being either black or white, but I assure you that these beings are not my friends. They lure me in, presenting me with images of the things that I want the most. I want escapism, I want to breathe the essence of life that I am craving, I ache for being and not just existing. But although they promise me the things that I yearn for even more than I love another being, they are simply an epitome of my darkest perceptions and beliefs. Instead of aiding me in my journey to redemption, they are wrenching me even further into my imprisonment. The walls are closing in.
Closer than ever before. I am trapped, frantically searching for an exit. The helix of thoughts is pressing closer, suppressing and suffocating my entire being. I am struggling to breath, panic setting in. I feel it rooting in my chest, unfurling across the entire stretch of my body. Quilting such a large surface area in such a minuscule stretch of time. Simply a matter of seconds before I start to hyperventilate. If my world can collapse in such a short amount of time, and so often, then why is my existence essential when I am so fragile?
I have been persevering for a vast amount of time, and I think it may be blatant that I accept my losses and surrender in defeat. I am Bethany, and I am many things. Yet I am not a survivor, nor am I a rolemodel. But soon, I may just be a victim to the exact thing that the thoughts are begging me to do.
Take me, shadow friends.