The
figure reflected against the mirror that stared straight at felt alien to
her. She watched on as the skin around
its mouth stretched out grotesquely and revealed a set of yellowing teeth.
There it was again, practicing another hopeless smile. She had long ago already
retreated into the depths of her skin, trying to put as much distance between
herself and life. Her body continued to move as always, smiling at the people
around her, working hard at it's job, the automatic routine that she had engraved into a husk by years of repetition. Days passed as she stared at a foreign life through a
pair vacant eyes. Her soul had lost touch with the body, no longer able to feel
anything anymore, her mind merely flickered through the scenes of the day as
if watching a movie. What had happened to her? Why was she no longer satisfied
with her life? Her life was fine: she had family, friends, and financial
stability; there was absolutely nothing for her to be upset about. Yet every
day she could feel herself become emptier as her emotions slowly faded away until all she could feel was exhaustion. And so, she buried herself away into the
depths of her physical self, the only self the people around her could really see.
It
wasn’t as if no one tried to understand her, but it was difficult for her to
consult anyone when she, herself, couldn't understand what was wrong. Cut away from her still
functioning body, her worn down soul tried to hold itself together, desperately
trying to catch the flesh of her spirit as it dropped away, chunk by chunk. She could feel herself breaking down, however the only
sensation it caused was a dull ache somewhere her heart was supposed to be. Her
body mechanically continued an empty life while her soul disintegrated. As time
passed, everyone grew to be mere strangers. No one was looking at her anymore,
they were all too busy getting to know the empty doll that paraded around as
herself. It was sickening. The more people she grew distant from, the more meat
fell off the body of her real soul. She was becoming a broken bag of bones,
surrounded by pulsating meat that refused to stick together, trapped inside a
doll that continued to breathe for her. Still, all she felt was a growing sense
of hollowness sometimes accompanied by an ache that she could not place. There
was no pain or fear, just the sound of a physical heart pounding away without a
care.
Months
passed without much change: her body was still intact and her soul was still
scattering but the ache invaded her entire chunked up soul. It wasn’t a
physical pain as she had long lost touch with her nervous system but it was an ache
refused to leave. It wallowed within her, refusing to let go, driving her into
madness. She desperately wished it to stop, to leave her alone, but it
wouldn’t. An idea occurred to her when the body’s glazed eyes felt upon her
arm. She knew that pieces her soul were trapped underneath the thick hide so
maybe if she was able to physically scar her soul, the pain could override the
unknown ache. And so, for the first time in a long time, she made the alien body
momentarily hers and drove into the flesh the only thing within reaching
distance of herself: a ballpoint pen. The sharp pain that shocked her body was
pleasant in a way. It was the first thing she had ever felt other than the dull
ache since she had retreated far away from life and she felt refreshingly alive. However, it was not enough. Harm
inflicted on the body would heal soon enough, but she needed to wake her soul.
-That Weird Girl
PS: I don't think self-harm is ever a good solution, please don't do it.
I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this idea. I just had to get it out there so here it is. It's incomplete and I doubt I'll ever complete it.
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