Insane_Idiot27

Insane_Idiot27 t1_j626er7 wrote

My eyes felt like lead. I was tired.

5...

I remember the sunshine on my face.

4...

I remember my grandchildren opening their eyes.

3...

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

2...

I remember my death wish.

1...

I remember it all.

And then I don't.

And then there's nothing but a voice.

So, this is what your life could be like, says the voice. I can't make sense of it. It's everything and nothing at all. It's both young and old, and neither young or old. It just... is.

Do you want to be born?

So I remember.

And I think.

I remember my grandchildren.

I remember all the happy moments.

And then I remember the darkness and the despair and the loneliness.

I remember my death wish.

I remember drowning on land when everyone around me was breathing fine.

I remember the panic attacks and the late nights.

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

I remember the sunshine.

​

"I lived." I said without thinking.

You could say that. Souls... often find themselves "living out" their previews. You've lived many.

"I lived a long life. And if you were looking outside in, I lived a happy one, too," I say, taking a deep breath. Do I have a body?

That's true.

"Idon'twannabeborn." I blurt out suddenly.

Oh?

"I - I'm tired," I hesitate. "I don't deserve this life."

Why not?

"I had such a good life and I still couldn't be happy. I'm not good enough."

That doesn't mean -

"Please, just give it to someone else."

I DON'T MAKE MISTAKES, the voice says, loud and soft at the same time.

"I know," I say, "It was I who made them."

I AM THE ONE. I KNITTED THE COSMOS FROM DUST.

The voice pauses.

But this is your choice, and yours only.

​

"No lives." I whisper. "I'm done."

Alright.

​

​

5...

I remember the sunshine on my face.

4...

I remember my grandchildren opening their eyes.

3...

I remember the flowers my wife gave me.

2...

I remember my death wish.

1...

I remember it all. I remember every life I ever lived.

And then I don't.

And then there's nothing but a feeling.

And it tells me to forget.

My eyes feel like lead. I'm tired.

5

Insane_Idiot27 t1_j5hlehy wrote

>"Yeah, well, fuck 'em." I shrug. "They didn't spend thirty years under a perception curse that prevented them from seeing anything positive about the world."

POV: you have depression and you didn't expect to be called out at r/WritingPrompts of all places

3

Insane_Idiot27 t1_j3ajbag wrote

[Poem]

People are forged in fire,

and become steel.

They fight monsters as they come

Down the monsters go, one by one.

I had never gotten a blade

Even if I did, mine's couldn't be slayed.

It lives in my house

It sleeps in my bed

It mocks everything I've ever said.

It only laughs at my shouts when
I point at the door and tell it to get out.

It whispers: "We are a pack.

When we were alone, I was there, I held you; It's a fact."

I've tried to push it away,

But I've been locked in my brain.

Because I am the monster.

The monster is me.

Why, oh why can't you see?

I'm the monster; I'm far beyond help

To kill the monster, I must kill myself.

As the world burns down,

I'm too tired to feel

I was forged in the fire

But never became steel.

​

​

Source: been depressed as long as I can remember (which is not very long, actually). At least the bitch lets me write something decent once in a while.

3