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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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What about her thighs, those jeans were painted on.

Shut up.

YOU shut up.

"No, all of you. I can't hear myself think."

Oh, look at that!

He wants to think.

Think

Think, think, think. In Pooh bear's thinking corner.

"Oh, bother."

They're not going to believe you, you know.

They can't hear US.

You can't even hear us.

Think.

Hear

CAN'T CAN'T CAN'T

Your mother could hear us. Are you going to tell them about your mother?

Freud told them about your mother.

"Leave my mother out of it. You're the ones who killed her."

No, YOU did that.

You're gonna get the chair.

If you make it out of the room. What's that razor for, buddy?

"I haven't shaved in three weeks."

Maybe you look better with a beard.

Yes, better.

Easier to identify.

Your mom had a beard.

"I said leave her out of it!"

We heard you.

We're always listening.

They won't, though.

I'm swimming in the ocean. My friends are standing on the shore cheering for me. Telling me I've got this. I can do it. I can be brave.

They're so encouraging. They believe in me. Even though they can see that I'm not really swimming -- I'm just kind of treading water -- they're still giving it their all.

I love them so much. I love them so much it hurts. They're trying so hard to help me.

I want to make them happy.

Still, there's a voice in my head that I can't quiet. A question that I can't answer.

It sits with me because, well... I hate to say it, but I'm not an idiot. I can see that they're not out here with me. They don't know how bad it really is. They don't understand how close I am to going under.

They're on the beach with their toes in the warm sand.

It's easy to tell someone to confront the deepest, darkest recesses of their mind. It's harder to confront it with them.

You want me to "talk to someone"... so why won't you listen to me?

[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.

Looking out the window at my therapist's office, I watch as people below move from buildings to cars in a constant stream.

"You're awfully quiet today. Has something changed since the last time we spoke?" Dr. Green asks as she squints at me over her tablet.

I clear my throat, unsure what to say. Should I tell her about the accident? I feel a flush creep up my neck into my face as I burn in shame.

"She will lock you up if you tell her." A gravelly voice croaks inside my skull.

"Let her talk, Walter, then the quack will know just how crazy she is..." a squeaky childlike voice taunts.

The voices begin to swirl and collide in my mind. I cringe and hold my fists over my ears, trying to block them out.

"Shannon?" My therapist is leaning forward with a concerned expression studying my face.

"Just another migraine." I take a few deep breaths and unclench my fists. I swallow and try to look reassuring. "It'll pass."

"No matter how hard you try, you can't get rid of us. It hurts our feelings that you would even try." The childish voice whispers.

"Fuck her, and fuck that bitch. She deserved everything she got! Trying to unalive us. What a disgrace, you should be ashamed." A harsh feminine voice yells.

"Marie is snapping again. Surprise, surprise." Pipin sing-songs.

"Both of you can it." Walter grumbles. "No matter what, we can't tell the truth. I'm too old to get locked up in a cell."

"I wouldn't worry about jail so much as the electric chair. Texas fries people like our Shannon." a cold, steely voice snakes in. My neck hairs stand on end, and I tremble at the voice of pure evil. I hate Earl, he makes me do things I don't want to do. I should really tell Dr. Green. She could get me help. So I don't hurt anyone ever again.

"Dr. Green..." I begin shakily, trying to focus on her. I lock my eyes on her nose. "Dr. Green I need to tell you something..."

"BAM, BAM, BAM!" My therapist looks shocked and mildly irritated by the interruption. She apologizes as she moves to answer the door. I look out the window and see four red and blue flashing squad cars. I feel sick to my stomach.

"The jigs up." Pipin squeaks almost in delight.

"Shit." Walter adds.

"What is this all about?" I hear Dr. Green ask from far away. My head starts to swim, and I see black spots.

"Don't faint. I want you to be awake for this." Earl's voice slithers in one ear and out the other. I can't watch and look down to study my shoes.

A primal sound pierces the air. I sharply look up and see Dr. Green clutching at the policeman as she slides to the floor sobbing.

"I am sorry, ma'am." The officer offers softly.

"Here we go. Remember, Shannon, if you hadn't started this therapy bullshit none of this would have happened. This is on you." Marie scolds.

"Awe, Marie, don't make her feel bad." Earl cooed. "Trust me, she liked it. First time she felt in control in years. Isn't that right, Shannon? Let me know when you want the sequel. Anytime you want to feel alive again."

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" I shout and stand up. Dr. Green is pale and on the floor. She is looking at me like she discovered the monster under her bed.

"Tell her to stop looking at us like that, or I will give her something to cry about." Walter snaps.

"Shannon..." Dr. Green begins and stops to lick her lips. Her eyes are red and staring.

"My daughter was killed in a hit and run in front of my house earlier today while she was riding her bike." Dr. Green pauses and looks away. Tears streaming down her face as she sobs uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, miss. I think it is best you leave. " One of the officers takes my elbow and gently escorts me out the door. I walk toward the bus stop slowly. The voices shouting, arguing, and celebrating all at once.

"Glad you listened to us and didn't drive today. Those cops would've seen her daughter's pretty blond skull all over your bumper." Earl laughs.

"Shut up..." I whisper with less enthusiasm. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Oh Shannon, you never have to be alone. Not when you have us."

I can so relate to this. I love it. Thanks for sharing. We are all connected, you and I, is this grief? Relief? A wondering sigh…