The Weight of One
Ficlets and Ficly survivor, FicMom, and Mistress of Well-Intentioned Indecision and Goddess of Unrequited Love. @ElshaHawk @HawkandYoung
There's something broken inside. It rattles with every breath. It weighs down my lungs, curving my spine and slumping my shoulders. My heart works harder than it should, slightly panicked at the change inside. It knows that something is wrong and it can't fix it.
In the midst of the flurry of life, barked commands, and warm arms that surround me, thoughts flow, whispering that I am useless and unloved. No one wants to be with me. No one wants to love me. I'm ugly and I deserve to be left behind.
Memories surface, fighting for prevalence, of people who get a glimpse at my daily work telling me I have a heart of gold, that there's a special place in heaven for me, or that I am really good at what I do. Their faces swim before me as I cast them aside.
Flung near are the faces and attentions of the ones who love me most. They hug me, they hold my hand, call me Mommy or Sweetheart, and I hear them, but I've stopped listening today.
Today I feel lost, unwanted, and stupid.
All because one person left me.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
- Published 5 years ago.
- Story viewed 3 times and rated 0 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?
Yep. I feel for the character because I've been there on all the levels. I used to be a smiling, laughing, hugging, person with endless compassion even for people that I didn't like (or who didn't like me)--even to the point where I'd invite them to parties I threw because I didn't feel like it was my place to exclude them or make their lives less interesting. Which I suppose lies somewhere between narcissism and hubris.
On the other side, I've had people who may not have been my whole life but were like emotional lynch-pins. Or maybe pegs holding up emotional shelving. Once removed, things just kind of fall in a heap. Unfortunately, the only thing that allowed me to "get past" the series of depressive moments was time (and perhaps a counselor or two). I hope the protagonist has friends to talk to or someone to recommend various kinds of help.