Abandon all hope ye who enter here.
The wind was rustling through the dry, dead trees, blowing a strong burst of air every now and then. It was a cold and bitter and merciless wind, yet the girl dressed in green did not move from her seat on the bench. In front of her was a dead twisted plant at the base of a tree; only a few tiny leaves still clinging on in the relentless wind. The brambles were a dead brown colour and all tangled with one another reminding the girl of a loss of hope and the nearness of death. Yet also strength. And endurance. The brambles were not beautiful by any conventional means, but the girl stared. She had no idea why she was so fascinated by the brambles or the height of the black branches of the tree behind them, but she stared. Maybe it was because of how lifeless she felt? Maybe those brambles and trees reminded her of the darkness that lay within her soul, pushing her down and consuming the light she knew was there? Or used to be.
The sharp contrast of the tree’s branches against the white sky pleased the girl. She imagined herself lay amongst the brambles, cuts bleeding from her arms and legs, looking up at the sky and seeing nothing but the branches and the clouds. The cuts would sting. She’d enjoy the pain. Relish its harsh bite. She’d be alone with the exception of the surrounding woodland of the same haunting trees and the same carpet of dead leaves. She’d feel peaceful.
She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of people around her. The courtyard came back into focus and unfortunately so did the people. They were loud and chatty and all seemed to be happy. She wondered if they were like that on the inside. She hated how she was always surrounded by people and life and noise but always felt alone. This had always been the case for the girl, so she found ways to escape from her empty life. Through books and fantasies mainly.
Any “friends” she’d had, had disliked her or pushed her out and given up on her. That hurt more than anything. Despite this, there was one person who hadn’t given up yet. The girl knew they would though, eventually. She’d never been closer to anyone, never lasted this long with someone by her side and knowing she wasn’t alone. But even now she could feel that slipping from her grasp, slowly getting farther and farther away. She thought of her friend often, if not, every second. And she hated herself for it because she knew this was what would become too much. Her friend would tire of her and her desperation for companionship would drive her away. Just like everyone else.
Once, the girl had found something with her friend. She’d found herself. She’d been happier than she had in a long time and she felt strong and worthwhile and valued. That had all gone now. The girl had found her cruel, nasty, angry, cold self again and she knew it’d be her downfall. But she let it happen. She almost embraced it. She felt nothing. She had no connection to her emotions or her soul. She knew she’d hurt the people she loved, just like always. On the inside she’d be devastated by it, but that would never show. She’d do it on purpose to find an outlet for her darkness. She’d push her friend away in the most cruel and cold way as possible because it was less painful than being left again. Was that true though? The truth was, deep down, she’d do to others what she deserved herself. In the moment, she’d enjoy it. She’d feed on the hurt of others whilst it destroyed her from the inside out. Her self hate would fester once again and destroy her.
The girl swigged her coke, wishing it was something stronger and would damage her, then stood up and walked away with wide, unseeing eyes focused on nothing. She wished her friend was here. She wished she had someone to stand by her side. She wished she could just be herself without people being annoyed or hurtful or cold. She instinctively turned her head but the space next to her was filled only by the cold air. A ghost, she thought. Then the voices started. She doesn’t want to talk to you, they say. She hates you. Just leave her alone. That’s what she wants. She doesn’t want you anymore. You’re better off alone. Once, she’d have told herself no you’re wrong, but now she wasn’t sure if that was true. Truthfully, she suspected she was lying to herself and that the voices were right.
She was so alone in the world. Completely now. She used to have her mind and her fantasies to keep her company, but now even that had fizzled out. It was so much more empty than it was before.
The girl made it through another day of classes and made her way home. She walked from bus stop to bus stop slowly, wishing that she was going elsewhere. She’d pass that street. The one she’d walk down every morning regardless of the time it added to her journey. The one that reminded her of their story. Of the woman in the shadows and the girl at the bus stop. Then she’d walk across roads without looking. Be reckless. Hope for something to knock some adventure into her life; regardless of its fatal possibilities. It never came. She lived the same monotonous life every day. Nothing brightened it. Nothing made it adventurous. It was just – nothing.
The girl stood waiting for the bus, the wind making her hair dance around her face. She looked at her reflection in the glass of the bus shelter and scrutinised. She did not consider herself beautiful by any conventional means. Her face was plain, her nose thin and slightly upturned. Her eyebrows were dark and untidy, her hair in a similar state. And last of all, her eyes. A topaz-brown colour with a few tiny specks of green clinging to the pupil in certain lights. The girl always thought they looked rather like a muddy puddle. She looked and she thought. She thought how unpleasant it was to look at herself. It hurt to look. She’d avoid mirrors in bathrooms and the reflections of windows down the street, but for some reason she looked today. Only briefly, however, then turned away in shame.
The girl considered as she stood. Should she show her friend? Should she share this with her? She hadn’t decided yet. Maybe her friend would roll her eyes at it and owe it to the girl’s clinging nature? Or maybe she wouldn’t?
The girl doubted herself. In everything. She doubted whether this was truly happening, or it was something she’d conjured to fool herself into believing it was. She doubted if this was her reaching out for someone, or it was her seeking attention. The girl thought of the outcome it would bring. She knew deep down it would be reckless and end badly for her just like it always did. But she never learned and she knew she’d do it anyway.
It wasn’t the worst of what she’d done or what she’d thought, but it was part of it. If her friend stuck around and was interested, she’d eventually share more. If there was to be this distance between them, she wanted her friend to know her. Truly know her. Like no one ever had. She’d show her the darkest parts of her. She’d show her parts she’d never even spoken aloud about before. She’d show her friend what she’d written that day. Because part of loving someone as much as the girl loved her friend, is being afraid to show oneself in such raw a form and being terrified they’ll just walk away afterwards, but doing it anyway. Putting your trust blindly in someone else. Taking a risk.
The girl got on the bus and scrunched herself into one of the seats. She stared blindly out of the window at passing traffic and thought about everything. The ending of relationships. Old and new. The perpetual disappointment and pressure from her parents. The future. Her best friend. And herself. Her lonely, sad, blackening heart.
And she rode the bus home. The sky grew dark and the air grew colder. Darkness was almost upon her. And she didn’t know how to stop it.
The girl was right. Her clinging nature and sensitivity were driving her friend away. As she pushed forward to get closer to her, her friend pushed back and she was being pushed further and further away. She was feeling like an annoyance and a burden. Like a child. She felt unwanted and insignificant. Just like always. It was all her fault. And slowly and painfully, it was killing her.
HER FRIEND HATED HER!!!!!!
The girl always believed that it was the little things that were important. And that was true. In the past there’d been a lack of little things done to show her friend cared, but now there were plenty of little things to show that she didn’t. She never laughed at the girl’s jokes anymore. All she’d get in the morning was a hi. She’d get sent to bed. She’d get pushed out when she tried to help. It’d take longer for her to reply to texts. She’d then get excuses that had never been a problem before, they were easily overcome. So why then, did they come up now? Why did it feel like the girl was constantly being avoided? When the girl tried her hardest to make her friend happy, all she ever got was pushed back down. She felt insignificant and burdensome. The girl was aware that she should cut people who didn’t care about her out of her life, but that was always the girl’s problem. She cared too much. She cared enough to be constantly hurt and stabbed in the heart everyday because she loved her friend, and no matter how much it hurt to not have that feeling returned, the girl would always be there. She tried every second of every day to get her friend to show that she actually cared; for her to be pleased with the girl; to be her favourite person, like her friend was to her. But every day these little things kept crawling up. The little things mattered most. And they hurt the most.
The risk the girl took did not pay off. Just like always.
