Dark days and Broken Branches

Let others feel your life through words.

I don't think I've ever told you, have I? I was once where you stand, a mass of uncertainty and anguish. Although not in the same context, I was still there. Each day was a drag, a bland cloud of dullness, passing slowly and painfully. I didn't want to live. I didn't want to breathe the thick,  drowning air that kept me alive, that I shared with my tormentors. Solemnly, I would throw myself into bed, and wish for death to snatch me with nimble fingers during my broken sleep. Yet, it never happened. I would wake up to the sound of the birds screeching, the sunlight burning my sunken eyes, and regret stuck in my throat like an unfinished sentence. 

I beat myself up, branded myself a prime example of cowardice. I had the power to take away my life faster than anyone would have cared to notice, but it was too easy. Even in death, I wanted a challenge. Desperately, I resorted to the bites of steel to calm my confusion, in the hope that one day, I might accidentally slip and end it all for good, but much to my demise, I was always too careful. It never bothered me; the glistening red acted as a warning sign of life, a reminder of my pitiful attempt of living. 

I can't tell you when it started, the feeling of darkness in a world full of chance encounters with  light: It's all I've ever really known. I would imagine it started early, when I was thrown into a family where the woman labelled mother didn't know whether to love me, hate me, or detest me; perhaps she did all three. Her kisses were bruises, her comforts were put downs, her love was twisted. I had siblings, but we did not share the same mother. I always felt like an outsider, as if they never understood, and I was right, I was like a black sheep in a cow field. Even hugs from my mother felt alien, as if there was a slight falseness about it; smiles became grimaces, warmth became cold.

My head would swim in a sea of bitterness, my heart would cloud with spite. I never really had anyone to hold me and tell me that it would all be okay; instead I had hushed tones and people who knew, but did not act. That, was the biggest let down of all. 

It got worse and worse. I thrived whilst trying to find distractions; books, films, games, anything to let me escape the warped reality that was all I knew. Yet they served to be minimal, a temporary fix for a long term problem. I know we're different, you and I, that we both grew up on a different spectrum of our family, that I am overwhelmed by emotion, and you feel overwhelmed even trying to comprehend the ones you know, but I've been there, I've been empty too. 

We all have our breaking point. I did. But, I ran away from my problem, and was engulfed by more. I learned to live a little, yes, and I  learned to talk to people as hard as it was, but I still walked away. I always found it easier to do that, but that's just me. You see, sometimes, I turn off all feeling for days on end, and then I switch back on and  am swarmed with negativity,  hurt, and pain, anguish, and regret and most of all, bitterness. I think all I ever wanted was to be loved, to be comforted.  

You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this, and I want you to know that it's because I care about you and I love you. I want you to be confident and face up to your problems, and not to do what I did, because the truth is, sometimes it makes you worse. You become almost like you're on autopilot, and cage your feelings like they're some sort of wild, rabid animal, but they're not. I still struggle trying to open the door when  they're natural and a beautiful part of being human, even anger. 

I never see you any more. Time came and went, and the bridge that kept us together crumbled, leaving us with nothing but  rubble to piece together barehanded to try and rebuild the connection that was lost, and at times for me, the lifeline that was my very essence. I never told you about my dark days, because when you were 11, confused, and experiencing the same, I didn't want to scare you. I wanted to love you because I don't think anybody ever had in the right way.They never did with me.  Love is meant to be selfless. Love is not meant to be a reflection of the negativity in your life. I think we both suffered because of people we cared about thinking that this was a right way to do things. 

You're growing up now, and I know you don't think it, but you are beautiful, and I am so proud of you. You have emerged from our broken and distorted reality of family, like a phoenix in the flames, even if you haven't noticed yet. I'm not much older than you, I know, but I feel aged before my time, and I know you do too. The thing that makes me the happiest is that you found solace in words, just like I did. They comforted me in my bad place, and I know they'll look after you, when I can't. 

I'm not comparing, don't ever think that. My message to you, is just that I understand, and that you don't scare me. I love you, and will look after you even if you don't want it. And in the end, you will be okay. You will get through it. I know it's cliche and that everyone keeps ramming it down your throat like a feeding tube, but I can honestly say that it will. There is light in even the darkest of shadows, you just have to look for it, and I will always be here. We may both be on different branches, but we're from the same tree. So when you wake up tomorrow, with the weight of the world pushing you into your mattress, try and fight back. Try and push up with all your might, and do it with the biggest, scariest smile you can manage. Because although many parts of the tree are gnarled, twisted, broken, and torn, we are strong, and 2 strong branches are better than none at all.

Author's Note

Ignore any grammar issues/spelling errors. Honest opinions would be nice, even if it's just a sentence!

Reviews

[13point9]

This is really well put togehter. The tone is especially well-executed. The whole thing's sort of gritty and the sense of oppressiveness and of the narrator's bitter resilience sort of builds on you as he goes through his story then eases out and warms toward the end, and that really pulls the whole thing together and carries it smoothly. You're really good at maintaining a consistent voice.

I get a good sense of the narrator: he's very direct, very clear-minded and -spoken, sharp, sort of rough around the edges but knows exactly what he's doing. He's easy to follow and interesting enough that I want to keep following him. He speaks very naturally, which is impressive given the content and you pull off the directly speaking to the reader thing well, returning to that at good intervals so we don't forget or feel you're going off track anywhere. The listener as a specific person (his younger sister?) only becomes clear towards the end, which is a little jarring. A quick mention of that from the get-go might smooth it out.

You drop some really good lines in there worth a double-take. I like the one about unfinished sentences, the black sheep one, the "her kisses were bruises" one, and the "natural and beautiful part" one especially. That being said, a few of your lines scooch a little too far into cliche territory and that detracts from the overall effect. Also, minor nitpicking, but I think you mean "much to my dismay" not "demise" in the second paragraph.

Altogether, very impressed. Neat work!