How does it feel when an innocent person takes their life because of a comment said online? Turn off the phone, right? Turn off the internet?
Well, how do they turn off the comment they just saw? The hate and disgust that they already have for themselves is being injected into their brain by someone they can't even see.
Evil seeps in like a liquid through an IV into their skin, gashes and scabs clawing at their skull as the words from strangers drive them speechless. The smile they once carried was stolen by a faceless viewer whose inner hate is stronger than the love for themselves.
Yet the advantage of technology gives the viewer power, trying to take what once was the cared for, now the ill. Mind in a frenzy, and it's not even their fault, it's the fault of the people whose heart was crushed before they could be made. The sick who decided to spread it so they wouldn't die alone, the ones who couldn't bear the bore of their own life, so they had to poison someone else's.
Thrilled when the consequence of their brittle bones led to the death of an innocent, and satisfied when their tracks were covered by a delete button. Not a single investigation in place, nor a police after their fingerprints, nothing, and they're not even horrified because they are barely human to begin with.
Barely sane and yet they walk amongst humanity like it's nothing, like they belong. After scamming, trolling, and punishing the ones who have already been tormented. Tears leak from the victims as the thought of the moment never leaves, never truly expels itself, and depression becomes more of a savior than a villain.
The pressing pressure of sadness feeds through the straw of fear and rejection from the need to be perfect, to be okay, even though they are not. Because none of us are truly ever okay, but we pretend to be, pretend to know what's going on. Pretend to know how to live life, when we are just as clueless as the people around us; the only difference is that our disdain makes it harder.
Living is already a challenge, so when you have to deal with more mental turmoil, it makes life truly hell. A pit of fire burning at the edge of the skin, and grateful when a drop of water cools you off.
The sins of this world are invading each person, even when it has nothing to do with them, and it starts to make you question yourself. Question who you are, and why you were even put on this planet when everything seems like an enemy, even your closest family at times.
Yet even in the darkest of areas, there is light, even if it's smaller than your pupil; it is there. Lurking and waiting for its chance to grow. Even if it takes weeks, months, or years, sometimes you won't even see it if you don't pay attention. But for every wrong move or bad comment, there will be a good one.
There will be someone to show you kindness, and someone who cares when you fall. Sometimes it's not even someone you know, but a stranger with a good heart. Because for every piece of evil, a tiny bit of light follows.
A tiny bit of hope that helps us continue even in the worst of times. When everything feels like it's falling apart, that small sunlight poking out of the clouds brings wet tears down your face. Reminding you that there are our good days, just as that kind artist said in her song.
Even though fleeing to another planet would be more optimal, for now, you are trapped on Earth. Singing its song, and living the role you were chosen for, even before birth. It is your path, and will always be as long as you are breathing air; never forget that.
A parasite has bloomed from my belly, rested its head upon my wound, and has taken my nutrients hostage. It is glued to me as if it were sap to a tree and the only way to rid is through cut. Knife or blade of some sort, and if it shall stay with me, the pain of a thousand teeth will come clawing at me. Bleeding pain that will tear at my organs but not kill me, no, for it needs a host for its terrible deeds. Needs a fleeting soul that is so gullible to the slightest bit of illness that it will take it for granted. Ringing the bells of the noggin like it is a place for hosting when in reality it is a soul-sucking feature. A clump of cells turned into an attached organism, a buildup that caused nausea and excessive vomiting.
A true plague that will burden daily life further than expected, and with the mistakes I've made in the past, at times, I think I deserve it. Deserve the pain and confusion that comes from all of it. Deserve the cruelty of being misconceptualized by other flesh beings, as my very skin makes them ache. The fear of taking care of myself gives them the impression that I lack the capability of fitting in. My unconcern for further education makes them shrivel beyond measure. Judging me further and at times equating my own personal growth to that of an animal's.
Yet if mistakes are meant to be made, is it then fair to judge one so harshly, or to think I deserve unfairness when I have a conscience? The very thought of my mistakes causes mental harm, so why dwell if I regret?
Why punish myself when I know and want to do better?
The very question is something I have grown to tolerate as life goes on, and hopefully get better with as I deal with different challenges. For even if oneself is the enemy at the same time, oneself is always the closest confidant we will ever truly grow to have.