Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth. When I look at my life and its secret colours, I feel like bursting into tears
~Albert Camus

I used to write to escape, to feel better, to feel whole. Put down the words and sing away your blues, collect the shards of your heart, but I have noticed that my writing has slowly become my bleeding. And now I ask, how have I been cut? When will I find the truth?

a few months ago

Orion's phone rang, he looked at it for a brief moment before picking up.
"I love you." I whispered
"Are you alright mate?" He asked I could hear his frown as he asked it.
I wiped a tear from my cheeck.
"I don't think so."
"Where are you? Are you at home? I'm coming Atlas, stay on the phone alright? Don't do anything."
I look at the knife in my handd and shook my head.
"I don't see an end to this....."
"I'll be there in two minutes atlas, can you manage that?"
I sniffled and agreed.

I am sitting on my bed, an empty suitcase next to me and my soul in my hands. My hands still stained by own blood by a feeble attempt of feeling better. I imitate a smile but it crumbles as soon as I think about it. I've had enough, my soul is full of dread and my heart is heavier than it's supposed to be. I thought by now I would have been happy, I know that I thought I would be happy, or I would be dead. I wouldn't be insane. I wouldn't be miserable. I wouldn't hate myself. I would have a life and I would love it. I love my life, but it doesn't feel like I can love it....

Orion enters the room and I put on my jacket. He shakes his head.
"We don't have to go yet Atlas, I'm here to check on you and.... help you pack your bag."
"You still believe in God right Orion?" I ask as I sit down on the bed and put my head on his shoulder.
He smiles "I'll pray for you. You know sometimes I think you still believe deep down."
I chuckle "Yeah, right..." I feel a tear fall down. "I've had enough Orion, I'm not okay. Ijust want to leave this earth without any feeling of guilt."
"Atlas, we lo.."
"Please don't say you love me." I interrupt him while putting some shirts in the suitcase.
he grabs my wrist and looks at the veins tracing them over the battlefield of scars.
"You know what hemoglobin is? A protein with four iron atoms included in its structure. This atom can only be produces by a dying star. You are a star to the universe Atlas."
I chuckle "A dying one you idiot" I say while effortlessly smiling.
"You're my anchor Orion, even if everyone else would leave.... I know you'd stay with me." I say as I hug him. And look at him as I take off the necklace I always wear. I put it in his hand. "Please wear it for me. I need you to."
"Of course, but now we do need to go."
"Orion?"
"Yes?"
"I swear, I want to be okay."
"And that is why you are admitting yourself to the mental health centre."
I nod and smile.

The car ride towards it seemed like it took hours. But at least it lead to a destination, unlike my life. 

a week ago

They always say that time only passes quickly when you are having fun. They're not wrong, it's been the longest two months in my life. Not seeing my friends felt like torture, but I needed to get myself under control before I can love them again. I look at the red marker on my wrists and smile. I wonder if it will work for a long time...... I have good hope. But hope is dangrous, and frightening my mother would say.

I pick up the suitcase and walk towards the hall. Orion and Andrew are already waiting for me. I run towards them and hug them. Orion is crying as he embraces me.
"How are you?" he whispers
"Better." I sigh with surprising happiness.
He gives me my necklace and I smile. "Thank you for keeping it safe."
"No problem, everything for you."
He puts his arm around my shoulders and we walk towards the exit. Never to return....hopefully.

It feels good, it feels like I might be alright. I have hope that I won't slip back, I have learned how to keep myself standing. I have faith that this time I'll be fine. Because at the end of the day the sun sets and it'll rise again too. And that is something to be happy about.

Half a week later

I open my eyes, to my surpise it sees the dark ceiling of my antique four poster bed, not the dirty white of the mental health centres ceilings. I try to ignore the pain all over my body and close my eyes again before stepping out of bed and grabbing a red marker and marking my wrist again and again and again. To no avail, it itches for the pain it is used to. I walk to the mini freezer I bought as soon as I was back. I open it and grab an ice cube, it burns in my hand as it numbs it slowly and I feel a smile dawning on my face.

I walk down the stairs, still half asleep, half in agonising pain. I look at the beautiful house. The house I have not lived in for two months. It is not exactly two months but than again. I'm used to changing houses a lot but this time everything feel foreign. Everything is real again and everything is as it is supposed to be, but that puzzles me. There's this hole of awkwarness in my chest. A foreign feeling I cannot understand and mayve I just need to get used to freedom again but still. It feels strange, almost unwelcoming, while the people here are so welcoming. My friends are where my home is. But....something is wrong with me.

"Goodmorning." I say to Orion.
"Goodmorning." I say while looking at my plate full of food, trying to keep myself in check while I feel like I could throw up any minute.
"We're going surfing today." He says and I smile, I really want to surf again. "But first you need to call your brother."
"Why?" I ask
"Because it clearly bothers you that he didn't call those two months."
"Come on!"
"Otherwise we're not going surfing."
"FINE!" I say frustrated as I grab my mobile phone.

I call my brother as I pace through my room. He picks up.
"Hey, it's me. How are you?"
"I"m good, how are you Atlas?"
"I came back from the mental health centre a few days ago."
he doesn't respond.
"You haven't talked to me while I was there. You didn't answer my calls. or letters for that matter. Are you mad at me?" I ask
He doesn't respond
"Why?" I ask again.
"I'm not mad Atlas!"
"Why??"
"I'm not."
"Why?"
"You sounded like dad alright?!" He screams back.
I cannot say a word for a brief moment as the sting gets through to my heart and a tear falls down my face. I take a breath.
"I would kill myself before I'd turn into him alright?" I say trying to hide my tears.
"But he did kill himself Atlas! You are no different. Who says you're not just as selfish? You've tried already, who's to say you don't succeed once?"
"You wouldn't dare...."
"I just said it Atlas, Goodday to you too." He says while hanging up the phone.
I stare at my phone in disbelief and walk back into the room.
And?" Orion asks.
"Everything is fine." I say with a smile, "let's go surfing." I don't need more drama today.

The waves are beautiful as we ride them and it makes me feel free as the sea carries me to places I choose to be. I smile as my hair catches the salt.
But when one wave washes over me like my life does every day I fall into the saltiness of the perceived freedom. Hurting my lungs and eyes. I swim to my board and curse while I hit my board.
"What's up with you? " Orion asks while I climb onto the board again.
"I'm just frustrated." I say slicking my salty black hair back. While wiping the tear disguising itself as the sea.
"Why?" he asks combing his hand through his blonde hair.
I sigh "I though after getting help it would be easier. But..... the silence in my head is driving me insane. My thoughts are telling not to take my antipsychotics but I.... know I should. But I want to feel normal. I want to understand myself, I want to be effortless, I want to be happy without force. I want to be happy without the tiring battle that never stops. I want to be normal, I want to be different. I want to be who I am but.... better. Always better....."
He paddles towards my board and tries to hug me but he falls into the sea. I chuckle.
I turn around and look at the horizon, I want to disappear.......
I want rest....
I want an end.

Now

I look emotionlessly at the table full of pills. The pills supposed to help me, but they take away more than my illness ever took. They are insatiatable, everyday I find out something new. First they take away what they are supposed to take away, But now they take away my ability to be original. To be poetical. To laugh, to cry. They paralyse me, it's like they cannot differ from the emotions I need to feel.

And if I feel any emotions they are twice as strong. I grind my teeth and ignore all the pain that is my body. My forsaken, cursed body. And my forsaken cursed mind.
I want something better, I deserve something better why is it me? Always me?
Allways.
ALways, always, always
All ways
All the ways I could've been different
Done different
Been better
Done better

Maybe my brother is right and you'll turn into your parents eventually.