Categories > Original > Drama
When The Sun Sleeps.
0 reviewsOkay, so this is a story that i co-wrote with two other people. Tracy (joshua-mibba acount name) and my other friend Cara. This story is pretty much based on our lives, except a few things have b...
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Sophie'S Prologue
It wasn't the busy traffic, the deafening sirens, and the noisy streets of New York City that kept
me awake at night.
It was much more than that.
It was the fact that my mind was slowly crumbling into a ruble that consisted of everyone else's opinions and judgment.
I could no longer feel my own mind thinking for itself, I mean, why would it need to think for itself, when everyone else is doing the thinking for me?
Something is wrong with me.
And I don’t know how to find that place in my head where I WOULD be able to think for myself without having 50 other voices shout back at me.
I use to be happy.
I would love talking, having intellectual conversations with people and laughing and having fun with my friends. for some strange vague reason, I couldn't do that anymore.
No one really knows me, and I don’t really know them.
I'm feel like I'm in a world where I'm speaking a foreign language that no one else understands.
I'm sick of clarifying why I do the things I do.
It's the things I do, that make me hate myself even more.
I've been trying to explain the reasons for why I am the person I am, for a long time now.
Even If I explained myself for a whole lifetime, in the end, people would still have no clue what I was talking about.
I can’t even explain to myself who I am, let alone other people.
People always say to me "What’s wrong Sophie? I don't understand you, why are you like this?"
And I would try so hard to tell them as easy as I could. But I don't want to anymore.
Those people don't care about me.
They just think I'm some attention-grabbing, messed up "emo" who just wants people’s sympathy.
They just want something interesting to talk about.
I've given up on trying; I've given up on re-connecting myself to this shallow, meaningless world.
I can’t speak to my parents anymore.
I look at them, and all I see in their heads is "She better pass those exams" and "Oh great, another fuck up for a child"
As a kid, I remember everything being a big, hazy dream, except It wasn't a dream, It was just a place where emotions like depression, anger, sadness, jealousy, neglect, and loneliness didn't exist.
And now, these are the only emotions I can truly feel.
I miss being able to hear myself speak,
I miss being able to tell myself that I'm happy.
I wish I lived in a place where It was only me, back in that obscure place that I once knew, where I couldn't feel anything, and I could forget everything and everyone.
What’s wrong with me?
Am I ill?
I just want to be able to lay still and lifeless forever without having to open my eyes and look at my sickening reflection
in the mirror.
I just want to drift off back to the pleasant dreams that I use to have, and never wake up again.
[okay, so this is the first chapter, and my friend Tracy will be uploading hers soon aswell.
anyways, comment!]
It wasn't the busy traffic, the deafening sirens, and the noisy streets of New York City that kept
me awake at night.
It was much more than that.
It was the fact that my mind was slowly crumbling into a ruble that consisted of everyone else's opinions and judgment.
I could no longer feel my own mind thinking for itself, I mean, why would it need to think for itself, when everyone else is doing the thinking for me?
Something is wrong with me.
And I don’t know how to find that place in my head where I WOULD be able to think for myself without having 50 other voices shout back at me.
I use to be happy.
I would love talking, having intellectual conversations with people and laughing and having fun with my friends. for some strange vague reason, I couldn't do that anymore.
No one really knows me, and I don’t really know them.
I'm feel like I'm in a world where I'm speaking a foreign language that no one else understands.
I'm sick of clarifying why I do the things I do.
It's the things I do, that make me hate myself even more.
I've been trying to explain the reasons for why I am the person I am, for a long time now.
Even If I explained myself for a whole lifetime, in the end, people would still have no clue what I was talking about.
I can’t even explain to myself who I am, let alone other people.
People always say to me "What’s wrong Sophie? I don't understand you, why are you like this?"
And I would try so hard to tell them as easy as I could. But I don't want to anymore.
Those people don't care about me.
They just think I'm some attention-grabbing, messed up "emo" who just wants people’s sympathy.
They just want something interesting to talk about.
I've given up on trying; I've given up on re-connecting myself to this shallow, meaningless world.
I can’t speak to my parents anymore.
I look at them, and all I see in their heads is "She better pass those exams" and "Oh great, another fuck up for a child"
As a kid, I remember everything being a big, hazy dream, except It wasn't a dream, It was just a place where emotions like depression, anger, sadness, jealousy, neglect, and loneliness didn't exist.
And now, these are the only emotions I can truly feel.
I miss being able to hear myself speak,
I miss being able to tell myself that I'm happy.
I wish I lived in a place where It was only me, back in that obscure place that I once knew, where I couldn't feel anything, and I could forget everything and everyone.
What’s wrong with me?
Am I ill?
I just want to be able to lay still and lifeless forever without having to open my eyes and look at my sickening reflection
in the mirror.
I just want to drift off back to the pleasant dreams that I use to have, and never wake up again.
[okay, so this is the first chapter, and my friend Tracy will be uploading hers soon aswell.
anyways, comment!]
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