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A Letter To No-One.

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A LETTER TO NO-ONE I sometimes feel as if there is no point, as if there is no hope. Hope. Hope is a very strange conception it is a wish for something to happen, the want or expectation of something. It is distantly connected to the Greek word hiponax- the fluid found deep inside the head, that protects the brain from damage. If you think about it, hope is all in the mind and actually, it is quite funny that we have created such a word. Hope is only used by people who are helpless in a situation, you often hear people saying "well there is still hope." Hope is a method of salvation. That is why when my parents said to me "well there is still hope, isn't there?" I knew it was all over, because if all they were relying on was hope then, well we were hopeless. I don't think I can feel anymore, not like normal people anyway. I am to weak to get angry- I see no point in hatred- and happiness, well that disappeared a long time ago. ...read more.


But I don't hate myself anymore- this feeling is beyond hate. No matter how much I torture myself it just won't disappear. I remember vividly the day my parents just gave up on me. I was sat across the room from them, rocking backwards and forwards crying quietly. My mother became angry, and my father couldn't touch me, couldn't even look at me, they were scared and couldn't bare the helplessness they felt. In the end they both looked me in the eye and said "We don't know what to do, I give up." "I give up"- I suppose I knew it before they said it, but the actual words made me crumble. I brokenly rose and clambered up the stairs, I hated them for a while, then I hated myself even more for putting them in such a horrendous position. After that they acted as if it had never happened, any of it. How could they just forget? Of course I went along with it eventually- it was easier for them, and in a way it was easier for me. ...read more.


Fears trickle down my face leaving blood-red tracks. One step and it can all be over. Glancing over my shoulder and all of the worries in life are observed. That can all end, just one step. Tingling builds in my stomach, like knives piercing, revealing specks of blood. The sadness and consternation bubbles inside rising, rising higher until they reach the throat. Take the step, and there will be no need to worry. A deafening cry emerges, bursts, out of my mouth, the deadly silence is broken. Crows rise from the branches of the restless trees, screaming out their alarm. They have the eyes of vultures that stand out, glowing against the darkness of the night. They are there to pick at the pieces of the sorrow left behind. Left behind after that single step is taken. Then it happens. Falling, turning, tumbling through the whirlwind of dread, horror, anxiety, loneliness and worst of all- it ends. Nothing. And then I wake up. I still feel the anxiety, I fixate on the horror, I am surrounded by loneliness, and the sorrow is still there, and so am I. ...read more.

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