
ClownMe
Don't Cry for Me, I'm Already Dead
- Apr 7, 2021
- 20,561
hey everyone, a bit of a different post from me today. I wanted to share this (very) short story I wrote. long story short (pardon the pun), I was depressed out of my mind Thursday night and was extremely anxious about my shift at work the following morning, I wanted to put my feelings in to words, I wanted to convey what it feels like for me waking up every morning, so I wrote the story below. keep in mind, this is the first story i've written in years, so it isn't anything special, but feel free to tell me what you think of it.
Nothing and Something
Nothing, then something. What once was nothing, is now something. There once was nothing, but now there is something.
Nothing, not anything; no single thing.
Something, a thing that is unspecified or unknown.
Awaken, breathe, legs tingle, arms shake ever so slightly, eyes squint, glance the room, dim, murky, gloomy, just like your mind. "something" is happening again. "something" has come from "nothing", again.
What once couldn't feel, now feels. What once couldn't process, now processes. What once couldn't think, now thinks. What once couldn't see, now sees. What once couldn't hear, now hears…
You're not doing any of that though. Who could blame you? For it wasn't you who chose to feel, process, think, see or hear.
Trapped, paralyzed, powerless. You can try to fight it, it dares you. "Fall back to sleep! you know you want to".
You try, you fail, it's engulfing you, it's getting the better of you, it's winning, fight some more, lose some more, it's a losing battle you're fighting, give up, you do.
The sheets come off now, the cold runs across your body, the joys of feeling, the sudden chill gives you goosebumps, the chill is momentary, you're processing.
Sit on your bedside and wonder, you're thinking, you're finally doing it all… all again. "something" has come from "nothing", again.
Footsteps, first along carpet, then across the tiles, reach for the handle, give it a yank, step inside, the mirror looks through you, you look through it.
Features mean nothing. It's that look within. Words can't describe, you have to be there, looking through those piercing eyes, deep into the soul.
It sees your face, but you don't see its face. What is it? It's an enigma, it hides behind the nothing and the something, it evades you.
However, at some point it'll be forced to show its face, it likes to appear daunting, but deep down you know it's lonely. It gets its kicks from your pain, your suffering, but little does it know that your pain and suffering is merely temporary.
One day the enigma that evades you in the mirror, cloaked in glass, will be forced to walk out into the light, to show its face, its true identity. No longer will it have the ability to hide behind the nothing and the something, no longer will it have the ability to taunt and ridicule.
It's days are numbered, because yours are numbered…
Continue to stare deep into the mirrors' gaze, smile a wry smile, whisper, "i'm coming"...
Nothing and Something
Nothing, then something. What once was nothing, is now something. There once was nothing, but now there is something.
Nothing, not anything; no single thing.
Something, a thing that is unspecified or unknown.
Awaken, breathe, legs tingle, arms shake ever so slightly, eyes squint, glance the room, dim, murky, gloomy, just like your mind. "something" is happening again. "something" has come from "nothing", again.
What once couldn't feel, now feels. What once couldn't process, now processes. What once couldn't think, now thinks. What once couldn't see, now sees. What once couldn't hear, now hears…
You're not doing any of that though. Who could blame you? For it wasn't you who chose to feel, process, think, see or hear.
Trapped, paralyzed, powerless. You can try to fight it, it dares you. "Fall back to sleep! you know you want to".
You try, you fail, it's engulfing you, it's getting the better of you, it's winning, fight some more, lose some more, it's a losing battle you're fighting, give up, you do.
The sheets come off now, the cold runs across your body, the joys of feeling, the sudden chill gives you goosebumps, the chill is momentary, you're processing.
Sit on your bedside and wonder, you're thinking, you're finally doing it all… all again. "something" has come from "nothing", again.
Footsteps, first along carpet, then across the tiles, reach for the handle, give it a yank, step inside, the mirror looks through you, you look through it.
Features mean nothing. It's that look within. Words can't describe, you have to be there, looking through those piercing eyes, deep into the soul.
It sees your face, but you don't see its face. What is it? It's an enigma, it hides behind the nothing and the something, it evades you.
However, at some point it'll be forced to show its face, it likes to appear daunting, but deep down you know it's lonely. It gets its kicks from your pain, your suffering, but little does it know that your pain and suffering is merely temporary.
One day the enigma that evades you in the mirror, cloaked in glass, will be forced to walk out into the light, to show its face, its true identity. No longer will it have the ability to hide behind the nothing and the something, no longer will it have the ability to taunt and ridicule.
It's days are numbered, because yours are numbered…
Continue to stare deep into the mirrors' gaze, smile a wry smile, whisper, "i'm coming"...