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A truth

The insecurity is real

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A writing prompt (#2)

Getting up out of bed, dragging his feet. Thinking it’s morning. Time to get ready, but really it’s only 3:15am.

He hasn’t noticed yet.

It’s quiet. The sun hasn’t risen, but the time still hasn’t dawned on him.

The floor feels cold, but not as ice cold as my skin feels. I am afraid for him to open the door. I don’t want him to see me this way.

His footsteps approach. The knob turns. But, the door won’t budge. It’s because I’m blocking it. Will he notice?

He gets it open just a crack. And he sees.

“Please don’t look at me,” I’m silently screaming from above. “You can’t be the one that finds me this way.”

He collapses to his knees.

For the first time, he really sees how bad things can be.

And for the last time, I really see how bad things can be.

Tears racing for the finish line. Lungs half-fighting for air. Maybe breathing won’t make this real? Maybe breathing will make this far too real?

He breaks inside with gentle force. Wiping the foam from my mouth. Pulling the needle from my arm. Cradling my head while staring into my glazed over eyes. He keeps screaming.

I stare back but cannot see. It’s all getting fuzzy. I still can see him from above. But he’s fading. It’s all fading. This was a mistake.

Are you still looking into my eyes? Please don’t let go of my hand. I can’t feel your warmth anymore. Do you hear me? I’m trying to say something to you. I don’t want to be this shadow anymore. I don’t want to be as still as I am. I don’t know how to do this alone. I can’t remember a time without you. Is this it? Are you listening? Do you hear the quiet, too?

#prompted